


true north

by superdupergust



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Angst, F/F, Family, Friendship, It is now, POV Alternating, Pining, Romance, Second Chances, Slow Burn, best friends to strangers to friends to lovers, is that a thing?, like buckle in y'all we're taking the long route
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:14:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24652912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superdupergust/pseuds/superdupergust
Summary: After Tobin is seriously injured during the 2019 World Cup, she returns to the small Georgia town where she grew up to recuperate. Her plans are simple: rest, spend time with family, and do her best to avoid the woman whose green eyes have haunted her for a decade.Christen’s life is quiet, and she likes it that way. She has her daughter and the children’s bookshop she co-owns with her friend Kelley. She doesn’t need things complicated by the return of the high school best friend who walked out of her life without explanation.But maybe a second chance at friendship will be just what they both need.Maybe friendship is just the beginning…
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 284
Kudos: 584





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (me: this fandom needs more fics where Christen is the one who plays soccer while Tobin doesn't  
> also me: anyway, i'm writing this fic where only one of them plays soccer and it's Tobin-)
> 
> This is going to be a long one, folks! I should probably wait until I have a reasonable backlog of chapters written, but I'm impatient and excited, so...here, have this! My goal is to post weekly updates. Since I'm also working on a couple of shorter fics, I'm not sure that's entirely feasible, but I'll try my best. :)
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy!

_I'll find true north, somewhere, somehow  
When the road ends and spits me out  
I'll call my friends and wipe my nose  
I’ll find true north  
and stumble home_

“True North” by Jillette Johnson

  
_Bing._ “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to Atlanta, Georgia, where the local time is currently 4:48 PM and the weather is a balmy 92 degrees and sunny. Please fasten your seatbelts as we prepare for landing. Thank you for flying with Delta.”

Tobin blinked blearily and rubbed her eyes, stretching up in her seat and wincing as something in her neck twinged. 

Not that it was anything compared to the pain radiating from her leg.

Tobin yawned and turned her head from side to side, trying to work out the kinks as she calculated timezones and determined she should have taken her pain meds two hours before.

Right around the time she had finally fallen asleep.

Of course.

At least her dreams had been nice today. 

For once, Tobin hadn’t been stuck reliving the moment on a loop: the loud, ugly _snap_ , only a millisecond before the _thwack_ of the ball hitting the back of the net, cheers deafening as the crowd lost their minds…followed by dead silence as they realized she wasn’t climbing to her feet. A ringing in her ears as she tried to keep from blacking out and prayed for it, all at once.

She’d had nightmares about it regularly, since. Or rather, morningmares and afternoonmares, because she’d been surviving on naps at random times, whenever her body crashed. She hadn’t slept through the night once in the four days since the incident.

Four days since the USA had won the 2019 World Cup.

Four days since the injury that might end her career.

Tobin knew that was an overly dramatic thought, knew that Abby had recovered from almost exactly the same injury and come back to play. But that didn’t stop the lingering worry.

Tobin pushed the thoughts from her mind and pulled her backpack up into her lap, fishing out the little orange container. She swallowed two of the pills dry, then washed them down with a swig from the tiny plastic water bottle. She shoved the remaining pills back into her backpack, then tossed it carelessly onto the empty seat beside her.

At least one benefit of buying three tickets to be able to elevate her leg was that she had plenty of room for her stuff. Plus, she didn’t have to deal with chatty or overly-perfumed seatmates. 

Still, after endless hours of vinyl seats and stale food, Tobin was more than ready to touch down for the final time.

Even if that meant she was going to be back in Mossy Hollow.

The nervous roil in her stomach increased at the thought, and she took a deep breath, then finished off the last of the water bottle. 

Tobin watched through the window as the airport below appeared to rotate and grow larger, the plane slowly beginning its descent.

Once they were on the ground, Tobin reached over to grab her phone, switching it off airplane mode and watching as the notifications rolled in.

She ignored all of them, simply shooting off a quick text to let her mom know they had landed.

Tobin pressed her head back against the seat and took another deep breath, willing the pain medication to move more quickly through her system. The pain in her leg was a deep throb, hot and angry, and Tobin cursed herself for forgetting to set an alarm to take her meds earlier. She set one for her next dose, swearing not to forget again, then tapped her uncasted foot as she waited to be able to deplane.

Finally, the flight attendant brought Tobin her crutches, and she slung her backpack over her shoulder and made her way out of the plane. Tobin maneuvered through the airport and took the tram toward the baggage claim, keeping her head down, hoping the brim of her baseball cap would obscure her face. She had no desire to be spotted by fans, didn’t know if she would be able to take their prying questions - or, worse, pitying looks.

The sight of her mother standing beside the baggage claim was a welcome one, even if it made her throat burn slightly with guilt.

But she shoved the feeling away, trying instead to let the sight of the familiar smile be a comfort.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Tobin.”

Just the one word was all she said, then arms were being flung around Tobin’s torso, squeezing so hard she could barely breathe. Tobin laughed softly, balancing on one foot as she awkwardly tried to pat her mom on the back without dropping her crutch.

Finally, Cindy drew back. “How is it?”

Tobin shrugged. “The same. It’s bad, but it’ll heal.”

“You’re too thin. You haven’t been eating enough,” she tutted, looking Tobin up and down.

“Ma, I eat plenty,” Tobin groaned, moving over to the conveyer belt to watch for her luggage. 

“Clearly not enough.”

“I am pretty sick of hospital and airport food, though.”

“Well, we can fix that.”

A thought occurred to Tobin, making her stand up a little straighter. “Could we stop by Zaxby’s?”

Cindy rolled her eyes. “Really? Still, with those chicken strips? You’ve eaten food from all over the world. You just got back from _France_.”

“They’re good!”

“We’ll do no such thing. You deserve a home-cooked meal, and that’s what you’re going to get.”

“Can’t say no to that,” Tobin grinned over at her.

“You know, maybe you wouldn’t be so desperate for fast food chicken if you’d come home more often…”

And there it was, the guilt trip she’d been waiting for. 

Tobin bit back a sigh. “I’m here now.”

“You are. And I’m happy.”

Thankfully, she seemed content to leave it at that. 

They waited in silence until Tobin’s suitcase rolled past, then collected it and made their way out to the car.

During the hour-long drive from the Atlanta airport to her house, Cindy seemed to realize Tobin wasn’t in the mood to talk about either soccer or her injury, and she didn’t press. Instead, she cheerfully doled out updates on all the family happenings and town gossip. She talked about everyone, from people at church to Tobin’s old classmates.

There was one name glaringly absent from the list of people she mentioned, and Tobin bit her lip against the urge to ask.

She didn’t know what she would want the answer to be, anyway.

Didn’t know if the thought of Christen having moved away would be better or worse than the alternative.

On one hand, she would be able to breathe more easily. Tobin was going to be here for three months, and it was a small town. It would be almost impossible to avoid someone for that long.

On the other, the thought of Mossy Hollow without Christen was inconceivable. Every single spot in town held the memory of her. Dropping her strawberry cone on the steps in front of the ice cream shop. Exiting the library with a stack of books so tall it nearly reached her chin, Tobin mocking her mercilessly even as she grabbed half the stack to ease the load.

But Tobin refused to ask, just as she refused to look up Christen on social media.

As a result, Tobin didn’t even know where she lived. 

(Or if she was marr-)

Nothing.

Well, one thing.

She had a daughter, around the same age as Perry’s oldest. 

The only reason Tobin knew that was because Perry had let it slip, one Christmas when Tobin was home, baby Juno only a few short weeks old. Perry had mentioned how she had run into Christen in the hospital, how she’d been holding the most darling baby girl. 

Tobin had barely slept for a week after that.

“So, any special ladies in your life right now?”

Tobin was jerked out of her revelry by the question, frowning suddenly. “What?”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“No, not really. Why?”

“Just asking. You’re not getting any younger, you know. The time for wild oats is passing. One of these days, you’re going to need to settle down.”

Tobin tried to be amused instead of annoyed at the prodding.

“Thanks for the advice.”

Tobin looked back out the passenger side window, watching as they rolled through the town square, all brick roads and old-fashioned store fronts. 

Tobin was hit by a wave of nostalgia as she took in all the familiar shops, their signs faded in the light of the setting sun. She was surprised to find a new one, something called _The Story Corner_ where the old antique shop had once been.

Some things changed, even in Mossy Hollow.

  


##

  


Tobin rested on the couch with her leg propped up on a pillow, the wild, grinding pain having quieted to a faint ache, while she listened to the sounds of Cindy making shepherd’s pie in the kitchen.

It had been one of her favorites as a child, and Tobin knew it was no mistake that her mom had all the ingredients on hand, the hamburger already thawed.

Tobin swallowed down a lump at the thought of her being so excited at Tobin’s coming home, making a special grocery trip just so she’d have the right things.

Tobin really had missed her.

The thought had her standing and reaching for her crutches. She might not be able to help with much, but lounging in the living room suddenly felt too much like avoidance.

The moment she appeared in the doorway, however, Cindy clucked. “Go put your leg up.”

“I did.”

“Not for long enough.”

“I’m fine. Is there anything I can help with?”

Cindy shook her head. “It’ll be ready in twenty. I just have to dump some salad in a bowl.”

Tobin leaned back against the counter. “Well, I’ll just keep you company, then.”

She could tell Cindy was about to protest, but before she could, there was the sound of a door opening, and Perry’s voice floated in from the living room.

“Hey, Mom! We’re here!” 

The greeting was followed almost immediately by another voice, high-pitched and much louder.

“ _BINNY_!”

Tobin barely had time to turn her head toward the doorway before she was being plowed into by a missile with short, pale blonde hair. Thankful for the stability of the counter behind her, Tobin grinned as tiny, freckled arms wrapped tightly around her middle.

Chin still against Tobin’s stomach, Juno peered up at her with wide blue eyes and whispered, “I’m sorry you hurt your leg.”

“It’s okay. It’ll get better.”

“How long before it’s better?”

“A while. A couple months, at least.”

Juno pulled back, her wire-framed glasses askew. “That’s _so long_. Summer will be over.”

Tobin nodded. “But you know what the good thing is?”

“What?”

“Means I get to spend more time with you.” Tobin ruffled her hair.

Juno’s eyes lit up, and her mouth dropped open.

“Really? You’re staying this time?”

Tobin nodded.

“Mommy and Daddy said so, but I didn’t believe them.”

Tobin raised her gaze to find Perry and her husband Mike and nodded a greeting before looking back down at Juno.

“Well, they were right! And I’m gonna be bored by myself in my apartment, so I’ll need somebody to play games with. Think you’d like that?”

Juno stared at her. “Video games?”

Tobin nodded. “And board games. And card games. All kinds of games.”

“What about handclaps? Do you like handclaps?”

“I do!”

“I can teach you so many! They’re mine and Lucy’s favorite!”

“Who’s Lucy?”

“My best, best friend. Her birthday is only _two days_ away from mine, _and_ our names are both only four letters with the second letter U.”

“Wow.” Tobin raised her brows and hoped she looked suitably impressed.

Juno nodded. “We know lots of handclaps. I can teach you some.”

“Sounds like a great plan.”

“Junebug, why don’t you go take Aunt Tobin to the couch? She needs to rest her leg,” Cindy said, smirking triumphantly at Tobin over Juno’s shoulder, because she knew Tobin wouldn’t protest.

She was right.

Juno was, without a doubt, Tobin’s favorite thing about her visits to Georgia.

Even though Tobin stayed in touch with her family via semi-regular phone calls and Facetimes, interactions during her short annual Christmas visits were always laced with the slightest trace of censure on one side (theirs) and guilt on the other (hers). 

But there was none of that with Juno. Juno was all easy energy and enthusiasm, and she treated Tobin like her favorite movie star. 

Tobin knew her special shine would probably fade after a couple weeks, and Juno would start seeing her like a regular aunt instead of a celebrity. But she was looking forward to the time together anyway, because she loved the kid. It was one of the things that had made her decide to come back here instead of staying to recuperate in Portland.

Juno walked slowly toward the living room, casting backward glances to make sure Tobin could keep up on her crutches.

With the aroma of shepherd’s pie in her nostrils and Juno’s enthusiastic chatter in her ears, Tobin thought, _Maybe this won’t be so bad._

  


##

  


Christen was assembling a new display in the picture books section when she felt her phone vibrating in her back pocket. She pulled it out, glanced down to see _Perry Heath-Gardner_ on the screen, and picked up immediately.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mama.” 

Christen smiled reflexively when she heard Lucy’s excited voice through the speaker.

“Hey, baby girl, what’s up?”

“Can we go to Juno’s aunt’s house? Pleeeease? She has a pool, and Juno says I can borrow her purple swimsuit, and we’ll be sure to put on lots of sunscreen.”

Christen chuckled to herself as her daughter breathlessly ran through the counters to all the excuses she thought Christen might pose.

Christen, however, had no problem with the idea, knowing the day was more than warm enough for swimming and that Katie Heath was trustworthy.

“Sure, as long as Juno’s mom says it’s okay.”

She held her phone away from her head after saying the words, knowing what was about to happen.

Sure enough, she heard the shrill shrieks even from a foot away, Juno no doubt having pressed close to hear Christen’s answer, too. Once they’d calmed down a little, she put the device back to her ear, just in time to hear her daughter shouting, “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you!”

“Love you, too, Luce.”

There was a muffled sound, then Perry’s voice. “I’ll text you the address and let her know to expect you at 5, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

A few moments after she hung up, a text rolled in with a local address.

Then a second message:

**Tobin is in apartment C.**

Christen stared, then blinked hard, certain she must be seeing things.

But when she opened her eyes again, the name was still there.

 _Tobin_.

“Chris? You okay?”

Wordlessly, Christen looked up to find Kelley scrutinizing her, a large box in her arms, clearly having stopped in her tracks in the middle of returning from the back room.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-“ Christen shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me. You look like someone just kicked you in the stomach.”

“I just-“ Christen swallowed, took a deep breath. “Apparently Tobin’s back?”

The name felt so strange on her tongue. For four years, it had been the name she had uttered more than any other. Sometimes substituted with Tobs, Toby, Tobster, Toblerone, or whatever other variation she’d come up with while hopped up on sugar or delirious from staying up far too late at an away game.

But not one form of it had crossed her lips in years.

Kelley walked the remaining few steps to the front counter and deposited the box onto it before spinning back around to face Christen.

“ _Tobin_ , Tobin?”

Christen nodded.

“The ‘I’m Such a Big Shot I Refuse to Acknowledge My Best Friend’s Existence Anymore’ Tobin?”

Her voice was increasing in volume, and Christen blanched, looking around, even though she knew they were alone in the shop.

“Kel-“

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“She’s here? In town?”

Christen nodded again.

“Good. I’ve always wanted to punch her in the face.”

Christen emitted a startled, strangled laugh. “That’s not necessary.”

“I think it is.”

“It’s really not. It’s been years. I’m over it.”

“I don’t care if you’re over it. She hurt you. And she’s an asshole.”

“Be that as it may, you still don’t need to resort to violence.”

Kelley blew out a breath. “If you say so. But just know the offer stands.”

“Thanks,” Christen said. “Not for wanting to beat her up, but for being on my side.”

“Always, babe. That’s what best friends are for.” Kelley paused. “Y’know. The real kind,” she added, as though unable to resist the dig.

Christen ignored her last comment, staring blankly at the shelves in front of her and trying to remember which books she’d been planning to put where.

“So, how do you know she’s back?” Kelley asked, opening the box and removing the contents carefully, placing books one-by-one onto the cart next to the counter.

“Her sister is Lucy’s best friend’s mom. They’re going over to Tobin’s to swim.”

“She’s back _and_ she has a pool?”

“Apparently.”

“Sounds about right,” Kelley muttered.

“And that’s not all.”

“God, what else? Did she land in town on a helicopter made of diamonds? Do you have to crochet a red carpet for her to walk on if she deigns to step foot in our store?”

Christen forced herself to give a weak chuckle, knowing Kelley was being overly dramatic for her benefit, trying to get her to laugh.

“No. But I do have to see her when I go pick up Lucy in,” Christen paused to check the watch on her left wrist, “three hours.”

“You okay?”

Christen twisted her rings and thought over the question.

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

  


##

  


Christen sat in her car in front of a swanky fourplex, staring at her phone.

Just over an hour ago, she had sent a text to Perry, asking her to give Tobin a heads up on who would be picking up Lucy, if she hadn’t already.

There’d been no response, but the two checkmarks indicated she had at least seen the message. 

Christen wasn’t sure why she had even sent it. Tobin probably barely remembered her name. It had been over a decade, and she didn’t have a reason to be upset by their reunion like Christen did.

Christen was the one Tobin had abandoned, treating her like she was gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe, something useless she had to shake off as she moved on to bigger and better things.

Christen inhaled, long and slow, then exhaled.

She could do this.

She was a single mom. She’d done harder things than going to talk to Tobin Heath.

Maybe not many. But some.

(The projectile vomiting incident of last year definitely came to mind.)

(Not that Christen needed to think about that when her stomach was already tied up in a thousand individual knots.)

Christen locked her phone, then clapped once, psyching herself up. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

She got out of the car and marched past impeccably manicured bushes up to the red brick apartment.

Christen took one last deep, fortifying breath.

Then she knocked.

She waited for what felt like an eternity and finally heard the muffled sounds of someone unlocking the door.

And then…there she was.

Christen had, of course, seen her on television throughout the years. She’d grown up an avid soccer fan, and she wasn’t going to stop watching USWNT games simply because Tobin was a part of them.

But seeing her in person — it was like taking a soccer ball straight to the gut.

In Christen’s head, when she thought of Tobin, she saw a gangly teenager with long arms and messy hair and a carefree, lazy grin, clad in a Mossy Hollow Hornets jersey and grass-stained shorts.

The woman who stood in front of her was the same as the Tobin in her mind’s eye, but not.

The tanned skin and long brown hair were familiar, but her face was older now, a little leaner, her jawline more defined, and she had the tiniest crinkles at the edges of her eyes from spending so much time squinting in the sun. She wore a maroon snapback and a grey tank top that showed off her biceps, and she was leaning her weight on a single crutch, sporting a white cast on her left leg.

But the main difference was her eyes. Not the dark smudges under them, though Christen did make a note of that, but their expression. No longer was she looking at Christen in any of the old ways: warm or amused or teasing.

Instead, the beginnings of a grin had dropped, and she was staring like she’d seen a ghost.

“ _Chris_?”

She sounded exactly the same.

Christen swallowed against a suddenly dry throat, and she raised her hand in an awkward wave. “Hey.”

Apparently Perry hadn’t passed on her message after all.


	2. Chapter 2

_Mossy Hollow High School Soccer Field, August, Freshman Year_

Tobin was in the zone.

Drop. Kick. _Thwack._

Dribble. Kick. _Thwack._

One by one, the balls she’d lined up hit the back of the net.

The heat was sweltering as the unforgiving Georgia sun beat down without a single cloud to soften it, and Tobin brushed the sweat out of her eyes as she lined up for her last shot.

She aimed for the upper left corner, but the fickle ball banged off the crossbar, ruining her streak.

“Shoot,” she muttered under her breath.

There was nothing to do but gather the balls and go again. Moisture trickled down the back of Tobin’s neck beneath her ponytail, and she decided to grab a drink first, spinning around to find the water bottle she’d tossed on the ground a few yards back.

And she jumped, a gasp catching in her throat.

Not because of the water bottle, which was lying exactly where it has been abandoned, but because of the girl standing right next to it. 

She had tanned skin and long, dark hair gathered into a high ponytail. She was wearing a tank top and athletic shorts, much like Tobin, but Tobin hadn’t the faintest idea who she was or when she’d appeared.

The girl cringed, then offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Tobin’s heartbeat began to settle back down to a normal rhythm, and she frowned. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long.”

“Just watching me?”

The girl shrugged. “Wasn’t planning on it, but you’re good.”

Tobin scratched her chin. “Uh, thanks.”

She advanced, grabbing her water bottle and noticing the mesh net of soccer balls the girl had swung over her shoulder.

“You play, too?”

The girl nodded. “I’m here for practice.”

Tobin took a long, deep swig of her water, even though it was warm and tasted slightly of plastic.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “It’s not for another hour.”

“I know. Wanted to get some shots in first.”

“You new?” 

The girl nodded once more. “I’m Christen. My family just moved here from LA.”

Tobin’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow.”

Christen shrugged a single shoulder, an awkward sort of modesty. “My dad’s office opened a new division in Atlanta, and my parents wanted to try the small town thing.”

“Well, welcome to Mossy Hollow.” Tobin tossed her water bottle back on the ground. “Hope you like ice cream, ‘cause that’s about all the entertainment we’ve got around here.”

Christen giggled softly. “Lucky for me, I do.”

A couple seconds passed, and Tobin gestured a thumb over her shoulder toward the goal. “Wanna take turns?”

Christen grinned, revealing teeth that were slightly crooked. Something about the expression made Tobin smile back immediately.

“I’d like that.”

They collected all the balls Tobin had shot, then took turns kicking for a few minutes. It didn’t take long for Tobin to be impressed. Christen was good. Possibly better than Tobin. Her form was strong, her kick sure, and the balls hit the back of the net one after another.

Christen had just landed a spectacular left-footed shot when it occurred to Tobin that she hadn’t introduced herself.

“I’m Tobin, by the way.”

Christen smoothed back her ponytail with both hands, lined up for her final ball, then kicked.

_Thwack._

She turned around, revealing a satisfied smile, then held out her hand.

Tobin took it, even though she knew her palms were sweaty.

Christen didn’t seem to mind. Her smile widened, eyes twinkling.

“Nice to meet you, Tobin.”

  


##

  


“ _Chris_?”

Tobin was hallucinating. She had to be. It was the only explanation, the only reason the one person in the entire town she was avoiding would show up, unexpected, on her doorstep, only a week after her arrival. 

“Hey.” Christen’s smile was polite but clearly uncomfortable. “Guess Perry didn’t tell you.”

Her voice-

She looked-

She looked incredible. Ethereal. Like a fucking dream come true.

She looked like every one of Tobin’s memories had come together to form an ultimate Christen. Her hair was pulled back but in its naturally curly state, the way she’d rarely worn it in high school, and she was clad in a bright teal sundress that accentuated her slight curves.

Tobin could barely breathe.

She wasn’t sure if it was due to Christen or the oppressive humidity spilling inside or some combination of the two.

All she knew was that Christen Press was standing in front of her. In the flesh. And Tobin couldn’t stop staring.

Shit, Tobin was _staring_.

Tobin felt her cheeks warm for a reason that had nothing to do with the temperature.

“I-“ her voice broke, and she cleared her throat and tried to formulate her thoughts into words. “You’re-?”

“Lucy’s mom, yeah.” Christen’s voice was quiet, her smile tight.

“I knew you had…but I didn’t know…” Tobin trailed off, casting a quick glance back toward the living room, where Juno and Lucy were watching a show. “Makes sense, though. She looks, like, just like you.”

And she did. Now that Tobin knew, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t realized it the moment she’d set eyes on Lucy. The golden tone of her skin, her bone structure, her wide smile. Most of all, her eyes, which were that unique grey-green of Christen’s.

“She does,” was all Christen said in response.

Tobin couldn’t think of anything further to say.

The silence was deafening as it stretched on, and finally, Tobin hopped back, holding the door open.

“Sorry, come on in.”

Christen shook her head. “That’s okay. Lucy and I really have to get going.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, of course.” Tobin’s cheeks flamed hotter, and she turned her head to call over her shoulder, “Lucy, your mom’s here!”

Lucy and Juno took their time getting up, gathering Lucy's things, and Tobin turned back to Christen. In the quiet, the gulf between them yawned.

She wanted to be able to be casual, to be normal. To say, _Wow, it’s a real scorcher out here today, huh?_

To say, _Hope your parents are doing well._

To say, _So, how’ve you been? It’s been ages._

(She wanted to say, _I missed you. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry._ )

Finally, the two girls were there, creating a welcome distraction.

“Hi, Mama.”

“Hey, Luce.” The first true hint of happiness in her eyes hit Tobin square in the heart. “Can you say thank you to Miss Tobin for letting you use her pool?”

Lucy turned obediently toward Tobin. “Thank you, Miss Tobin.”

Tobin rubbed the back of her neck with the hand not clutching the crutch. “Uh, yeah. Anytime.”

“Binny, could she come over next week, too?” Juno interrupted, looking up at her expectantly.

“Uh-“ Tobin started, unsure of how to respond, but thankfully Christen took over for her.

“We’ll have to see.” 

Her smile still didn’t reach her eyes.

Tobin’s stomach twisted.

“C’mon, Lucy. We have to go get dinner.”

“Okay,” Lucy sighed heavily, then turned back to Juno. They did a quick, complicated handshake that ended with them exclaiming, “Zulu!” at the same time.

Tobin stared, nonplussed, but Christen seemed unsurprised by the outburst.

Then Lucy said, “Bye, Miss Tobin,” as she passed, then went to hug her mom with one arm.

Her mom, Christen.

“Bye,” Tobin said, a split second too late.

Christen didn’t reply, instead turning with Lucy as they started to make their way down the path toward the parking lot.

Tobin closed the door, resisting the urge to watch until they drove away. Then she leaned back against it as the barrier of shock fell, letting a wave of emotions crash over her, nearly knocking her to the ground. She was lost, drowning in hot shame and nostalgia and regret, her heart cracking open to reveal the tattered remnants of a first love, long-buried but never quite forgotten.

“Binny? Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Tobin looked down, surprised to find Juno still there, staring at her with concern. She forced her lips into a small smile. “Yeah, Junebug, I’m fine. My leg just hurts a little.”

“Come sit down, then, silly,” Juno said simply, walking back to the living room, waving once at Tobin to follow her.

Tobin honestly wasn’t sure her good leg would hold her up much longer, so she did as suggested.

She followed Juno to the couch and then fell onto it, pulling up both legs. She scooted down until her head rested against the side cushion, trying to breathe normally even though her lungs felt like someone held them in a vise.

Juno pressed play on the remote, bringing back whatever show she and Lucy had been watching, and Tobin was left to the tangle of her own thoughts and emotions.

She hadn’t been remotely prepared to see Christen again.

Tobin had thought about the possibility of running into her, of course. At the grocery store, or out to eat somewhere. She had prepared a script of what she would say if she found herself in a situation where the interaction couldn’t be avoided.

But everything she’d prepared had gone out of her head the second her brain had processed who was standing on the other side of the doorframe.

Tobin had thought she was ready, but she couldn’t have been more wrong.

She hadn’t been ready, not at all.

Christen Press, in person, grown up and looking more beautiful than should even be humanly possible, was more than Tobin could have ever imagined.

And there was no mistaking the fact that she hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near Tobin.

Suddenly, Tobin remembered the first thing Christen had said, while Tobin was still staring and trying to process the fact that Christen Fucking Press was standing in front of her.

_”Guess Perry didn’t tell you.”_

Tobin looked around wildly for her phone, found it lying facedown on the end table beside the couch.

She ignored the notification screen and went for her contacts immediately, stabbing at her sister’s name. She swung herself up, found her crutches, and shut the bedroom door behind her just as Perry picked up.

“Hello?”

“Why didn’t you warn me?” Tobin bit out with no introduction.

“I did! I texted you!” The fact that Perry knew immediately what she was talking about made Tobin grit her teeth, ready to shout, before she processed the words and frowned, pulling away to scroll through her notifications.

Sure enough, there was one from Perry.

**By the way, Lucy’s mom is Christen. Thought you’d want to know before she shows up.**

Then Tobin looked at the timestamp. 4:51 PM.

She held the phone back up to her ear. “A nine minute warning? Seriously?”

“I didn’t think of it until then.”

Her tone wasn’t even remotely convincing.

“That was low, Per. You know I don’t- we don’t-“

Tobin struggled to find the right words, but she was cut off by Perry’s sigh.

“Look, I don’t know what you two fought about, but it was a million years ago. Can’t you just get over it?”

“We didn’t fight.”

“Sure.”

“We didn’t.”

It was true. They hadn’t fought.

They hadn’t said anything.

Well, Tobin hadn’t.

“Then what happened?”

Tobin stayed silent, chewing her bottom lip.

“Seriously?” Perry’s voice was annoyed.

“Nothing. Nothing happened.”

“Well, whatever happened - because something _did_ happen; I’m not an idiot - you need to put it behind you. You don’t need to be hiding in your apartment for three months. Otherwise, why are you even here, instead of Portland? Christen is Lucy’s mom, so you two were bound to meet eventually. It was better for everyone that it happened now.”

“Wait.” Tobin’s tone was incredulous. “So you did this on purpose?”

Silence.

“Are you fucking _serious_?”

“Don’t swear. Poppy’s in the car, and you’re on speaker.” 

“Poppy’s barely even two; I’ll swear if I feel like it.”

Perry ignored her. “To answer your question, I didn’t mastermind it, but did I use the opportunity when it came up? You bet your butt I did.”

“That was a shitty thing to do.”

“It was for the good of you both, and you’ll realize that when you have a second to calm down. Traffic’s getting bad, so I’ll talk to you when I get there. Should be about a half hour.”

“Fine,” Tobin bit out, then added, begrudgingly, “Drive safe.”

“Thanks. See you soon.”

“See you.”

Tobin hung up, ignoring the urge to sink straight to the floor, instead going back to the living room and sitting down next to Juno on the couch. She watched the screen, taking in nothing, her mind a thousand miles away.

Or, rather, only a few.

On a woman with familiar green eyes but an unfamiliar smile, tense and tight and a little bit sad.

A smile she had caused.

A smile she wouldn’t be able to get out of her head for days.

  


##

  


Christen swirled her glass of wine absently, sitting on the couch in her living room and staring at nothing.

Lucy was in bed, and Christen had _Furthermore_ sitting on her lap, ready to read, the cover bright and inviting. It was sure to be a treat, and she’d been meaning to read it for a while.

But she couldn’t even muster up the will to open to the first chapter.

All she could think about was Tobin.

Christen abandoned the book, leaving it behind on the couch as she moved out to the front porch. The sky was a faded, dusky purple, and the overwhelming heat of the day had eased into the sticky warmth of late evening, something that had become familiar to her in the years since she’d moved to the South. A slight breeze provided comfort and brought with it the soft, sweet scent of the twin magnolia trees standing in her front yard. Christen took a deep breath and settled back into the cushioned porch swing, slowly pushing it back and forth, listening to the harmonious chirps and buzzes of night insects.

Christen had thought she’d healed, that she’d worked through all of her issues surrounding Tobin.

And she had, really.

But she still had scars, and seeing Tobin made them ache, bone-deep and jarring.

She thought of the last time she’d seen Tobin before today. An August evening much like this one, the night before Tobin had left for the University of North Carolina.

Christen had spent that summer trying to soak up every moment of their friendship, knowing that soon, Tobin would be living hours away, while Christen would only be going to school in Atlanta.

She’d known, even as they promised to keep in touch, that they might drift apart eventually, as life took them down different paths and they found new friends.

She hadn’t expected that to be the last time Tobin would ever speak to her.

They’d both cried, Tobin seemingly as crushed as Christen herself.

And then…nothing.

No texts. No calls. 

Tobin had never been one for Facebook, but she had posted a picture of her dorm room right after moving in. Then she was tagged a few weeks later in a photo of a girl’s campus Bible study.

Christen had commented on both. Tobin never replied, though she’d answered remarks left by other people.

It had continued like that, with Tobin dodging her calls and texts and comments for weeks, until Christen finally let herself get the message. She stopped reaching out, though every time her phone rang, there was always a tiny part of her that hoped it was Tobin, ready to explain everything.

It never was.

Then, one night in her second semester of college, Christen had gotten drunk at a frat party and taken out her brand new iPhone to pull up the Facebook app and scroll through Tobin’s nearly-bare profile.

Only to find they were no longer friends.

She’d cried for two hours, Kelley consoling her the whole time, even though they’d only met a few weeks before.

The worst thing was, Christen hadn’t known _why_.

She still didn’t.

The only reason she had ever been able to come up with was that Tobin had simply decided Christen wasn't worth keeping in touch with. Tobin had big dreams - going pro, playing on the national team. She didn’t need Christen, going to school forty minutes from her hometown and likely to return there after graduation, tethering her to her old life.

She didn’t need any of them, including her family, as she hadn’t even returned home for breaks when all the other kids their age came back.

And the thing was, it didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense at all.

Tobin loved her family. And she’d never seemed to resent Mossy Hollow, unlike a good portion of their friends who had talked non-stop about getting out of it. Tobin had dreamed only of soccer, hadn’t seemed to care where it would take her, as long as she could keep playing her beloved game.

But maybe she had simply never said. Maybe she’d kept it a secret from Christen, one so deeply buried that it never even came out in one of their sleepovers, when they stayed up until 3 AM and shared every little thing under the protective blanket of darkness.

Maybe Christen was the only one who’d never held anything back.

She’d told Tobin everything. The anxiety medication she’d started when her parents found her having a panic attack over getting a B on a test. The way she wasn’t sure what she wanted out of life - how she wanted to be a mother but also wanted to explore the world. How she loved soccer as much as Tobin, but in a different way. It was a source of joy for her. She didn’t want it to take over her life and become a job, become something stressful that took away her joy instead.

Tobin had shared secrets, too.

Just, apparently, not all of them.

And finding out retroactively that their friendship hadn’t meant as much to Tobin as it had to her had hurt just as much as her abandonment. Possibly even more.

Because she hadn’t only lost the potential Tobin of the future. She’d lost a part of her Tobin from the past, too.

Christen took a sip of her wine, wincing when she realized it had gone warm. She set it down on the floorboards, then resumed pushing the porch swing gently back and forth with her bare feet.

To this day, interacting with the Heath family was strange, though it had gotten better over the years. Cindy had always treated her exactly the same, but she always looked sad when they talked. Sad, and curious, though she never pried.

Then Lucy and Juno had met last year in kindergarten, and suddenly there was a new Heath in her life.

They weren’t particularly close, certainly hadn’t clicked instantly the way she and Tobin had, but Perry was nice. And she was good with Lucy and happy to have her stay when Christen needed it.

Lucy was the most important thing.

And somehow, Lucy had led to this new reality, one Christen wasn’t sure how to navigate, one where Tobin had suddenly appeared again.

Christen’s instinct was to shy away from her, to avoid the pain the came from pressing against old wounds.

But she was also a believer in facing her problems, rather than avoiding them. If Tobin was going to be in Christen’s life again because she was a part of Juno’s, then so be it.

She certainly wasn’t going to keep Lucy and Juno apart simply to avoid her own discomfort.

She would never do that to Lucy. Not when Christen knew more than anyone how painful it was to lose a best friend.

  


##

  


The next evening found Christen and Kelley dropping Lucy off at Juno’s house to spend the night.

“You have Laila?” Christen asked her daughter, referencing the stuffed Build-a-Bear penguin Lucy refused to sleep without.

(She had learned to ask after the late-night meltdown call she’d gotten last year, when Lucy had slept over with her grandparents and had forgotten her precious animal. Christen had thrown a coat on over her pajamas and driven ten minutes, just so Lucy could sleep peacefully.)

“Yep.”

Christen shut the car door behind her, leaving the engine on to keep the air conditioning running for Kelley. She watched as Lucy ran across the yard to the front door, knocking before Christen was even halfway up the driveway.

Perry opened the door, then stepped aside, admitting Lucy and waiting for Christen.

“Hi.” Perry’s smile was slightly hesitant, and she glanced over her shoulder to make sure the girls had gone further inside before she lowered her voice. “So, about yesterday…” Perry started. “I just want to say I’m sorry I overstepped. I don’t know anything about the situation, and I was being a typical big sister and assuming Tobin…well, assuming I knew better. I didn’t stop to really consider either of your feelings, and I apologize.”

Christen nodded. “I appreciate that, but you’re okay. It was awkward, but we’re adults. We can handle it.”

Perry’s expression loosened, visibly relieved. “Good. I won’t interfere again, I promise.”

“There’s really nothing to interfere with. We’re sure to see each other around. It isn’t the end of the world.” Christen kept her tone nonchalant, tried to believe the words as she said them.

“Great. So.” Perry raised her tone back to a normal volume. “You’ll be back in the morning?”

“Yep. 10 still work?”

Perry nodded. 

“Perfect. Try not to let them burn down the house.”

Perry laughed. “I’ll try my best.”

Christen chuckled along with her, then peered around to where she could see Lucy and Juno in the kitchen.

“Lucy! Come say bye!”

Obediently, Lucy shot back toward the front door, backpack still slung across her shoulders.

Christen leaned down and pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “Love you, baby.”

“Love you, Mama.”

“Be good for Miss Perry, okay?”

“I will.”

Lucy skipped back toward Juno, who was grabbing something that looked suspiciously like a package of Oreos from the kitchen cabinets.

Christen pretended not to see, then turned back to Perry. “I’m headed into town to meet a friend from college, but call if you need anything.”

“We’ll be fine. Have fun!”

“Will do.”

Christen turned and walked back to the car, which was practically vibrating with bass. Climbing inside, she immediately reached over and turned down the volume.

“Hey!” Kelley pouted. “I was jamming!”

“I’d like to keep my eardrums in one piece, thank you.”

“You can’t listen to Zeppelin _quietly_.”

Christen just rolled her eyes and backed out of the driveway, and they bickered mildly about music for a few minutes before finally coming to a compromise.

As she drove, Christen’s thoughts wondered to the store, as they often did.

“You sure Mal has the closing instructions?” Christen asked as they pulled away from the final stoplight of Mossy Hollow, headed for Atlanta.

“Chris. She has to press, like, four buttons and lock a door. I think she can handle it.”

“Yeah, but the security system is weird, and-“

Kelley cut her off, shooting her a look. “How many times did you have her run through it?”

“…Three.”

“See? She’s got it covered.”

Christen sighed. “You’re right. It’s just weird that it isn’t one of us for the first time.”

“It kind of is,” Kelley agreed.

“Honestly, I still can’t believe we’re actually making enough that we can afford her.”

“God, I know right? I’d forgotten what it was like to have free time.”

“Free time, that must be nice,” Christen joked. 

“Hey, I’ve told you, I’m free to babysit anytime! You should take a night for yourself every once in a while. Have some alone time.”

“I do!”

“Or better yet, some not-so-alone time.”

She didn’t need to look over to know Kelley was waggling her eyebrows, and Christen shot her an annoyed look in response.

“You know I don’t have time for that.”

“We were literally just talking about the fact that you do. Besides, you managed it with Vero.”

Christen scoffed. “And look how well that turned out.”

“Look, not every girl you date is gonna be The One. She was, what? The second girl you’ve dated since you had Lucy?”

Christen nodded, keeping her eyes on the road.

“That’s seven years, Chris.”

“I’m aware of how old my daughter is, thank you.”

“I’m just saying, you’ve barely even given yourself a chance.”

“It’s just…” Christen blew out a breath. “It’s hard. I never liked the early parts of dating anyway. Where you’re still kind of getting to know each other and seeing if it’s something you even want to pursue. It’s so awkward. And it takes so much time! If I had a guarantee it would work out, it’d be worth it, yeah. But more likely it’s just a waste of time I could have spent playing with Lucy or cleaning the house or catching up on stuff for the store.”

Kelley started to respond, but Christen cut her off. “Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to ask you, do you think we should redo our staff rec cards? I was looking at them the other day, and I feel like they’re a little juvenile. Obviously we could keep them in picture books, but I think we should make new ones for middle grade and teen-“ Christen stopped talking when Kelley put her hands over her ears and started saying “lalala” until Christen frowned over at her briefly.

“What?”

Kelley’s hands dropped back to her lap. “I declare a moratorium on business talk. For the rest of the night, we’re not talking about the store at all. Deal?”

“But Crystal-“

“Yes, with Crystal, fine. But only, like, stories, okay? No talk about vendors or taxes or any of the boring stuff.”

“Fine. But only if you stop bugging me about my love life.” 

“Or lack thereof,” Kelley muttered.

“So, anyway, about the staff rec cards-“

“Fine! Fine,” Kelley said. “Deal. And yes, I do like that idea, but we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

“Perfect.”

Despite heavy traffic, they pulled up to the Italian restaurant two minutes early, a miracle only accomplished due to Christen’s running of a questionably yellow light.

Crystal hadn’t arrived yet, so the waiter showed them to the table, taking their drink orders while they waited. Only a few minutes passed before Crystal rounded the corner and held her hands up in an enthusiastic wave.

“Hey, guys!” 

Christen and Kelley both stood to give her a hug, and they all exclaimed over each other for a long minute before sitting back down again.

Crystal sat next to Kelley and passed her purse over to Christen to place on the empty chair beside her.

“I can’t believe I finally made it down here,” Crystal said with a smile.

“You’re not allowed to stay away that long ever again, okay?” Christen teased.

“I know. It was almost, what? Two years?”

Kelley nodded. “Ridiculous.”

“Agreed.”

They made small talk about the food and drinks until the water came to take their order and collected their menus.

“So, how’s everything going?” Crystal asked. “How’s the store? I saw on Facebook you guys just celebrated two years, yeah?”

Christen nodded.

“What’s it called again?”

“The Story Corner.”

“I love that. And I still can’t believe you actually own your own place! That’s _amazing_. And not easy, either. God knows I complain about all the management and red tape in publishing more than anyone, but I don’t know if I’d ever have the guts to go it on my own.”

Christen shrugged. “It’s hard, but I love it. And I have a decent partner,” she said, shooting a grin at Kelley, who shook her head.

“She’s lying. I have basically no use other than running the events and book clubs.”

“Oh, you guys do book clubs, too?”

Kelley nodded. “We have one for teens and one for middle schoolers. Christen does the storytimes for the younger kids.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“It’s a dream come true, honestly,” Christen said.

“Well, if either of you ever decide to come to New York, just let me know. I’d snap you up in a second.”

“Nah, we like to get the books once they’re done,” Kelley answered. “You guys are the ones who make all the things happen. If I looked behind the curtain, the magic would be ruined.”

Crystal laughed. “Still, you’ve got my number.” She look a long sip of her tea, then set the glass back on the table. “So, enough shop talk. How’s life? Girlfriends, boyfriends? Families?”

Christen bit back a sigh, not feeling like going into the subject again, but Kelley jumped in first, mentioning a girl she’d been talking to online.

Christen whipped toward her. “Wait, what? Why haven’t I heard about this girl?”

Kelley blushed. “She’s a new development. Like, it’s only been a few weeks.”

“ _Weeks_?” Christen shrieked, cringing a bit and glancing around to make sure her exclamation hadn’t disturbed anyone. She was grateful no one seemed to have noticed, except for Crystal, whose shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter.

“Hush.” Kelley made a face at her. “I didn’t know if it was going to be a thing at first. She lives kinda far away. but I really like her. I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

“Complicated, how?”

“Complicated, like I don’t really want to say more and jinx it.”

“Fair enough.” Crystal turned to Christen. “What about you?”

“Lucy is my everything right now. Between her and the store, I don’t really have time for much else.” Christen shrugged.

“Bull. You’d have time if you made it. I met Pierre while I was still putting in 70 hours a week. But we made it work, and now look at us.”

Thankfully, Kelley seemed to sense that Christen had reached her fill of the topic for the day, and she leaned forward to get Crystal’s attention. “Speaking of which, I never did get to see that ring in person…”

Crystal acquiesced, holding out her left hand for Kelley to take, and Christen’s eyebrows raised when she followed the action.

“Damn!” Kelley exclaimed.

“What does Pierre do again?” Christen asked.

“He’s an athletic trainer.”

“Gotta get me one of those,” Kelley said.

“What about online girl?” Crystal asked with a teasing grin.

“She’s…well, she’s not an athletic trainer.” Kelley snapped her fingers dramatically. “Damn.”

“Too bad.” Christen sighed in an equally dramatic fashion. “Could have been true love.”

One subject rolled into another, and they all laughed and ate and laughed some more. Their discussion was interrupted briefly when Lucy called to say good night, which was followed by Christen sharing way too many pictures of Lucy. But Crystal seemed enthused to look at each one, confiding that she and Pierre were trying for their first.

Christen screeched quietly. “You’ll be such a good mom!”

“Thanks.”

“So, no more tequila for you?” Kelley asked with devilish grin.

Crystal shut her eyes and groaned, leaning back in her chair. “Oh my god, don’t even mention that word! I’ve never looked at tequila the same way since that night.”

“Neither have I. Now when I see it, I think of you dancing on top of a table, shirtless…” Kelley smirked.

Crystal buried her face in her hands even as she laughed. “I’m telling you. Never again.”

“That’s okay. The one time will live on in my memory forever,” Kelley said, gazing off poetically into the distance, eliciting a snort from Christen.

Gradually, the time ticked away, until they were one of the few tables still occupied. 

Crystal looked down at her phone, checking the time and sighing. “I should probably go. The conference starts early tomorrow.”

“Yeah, and I have to be up to do all the end of day stuff before we open,” Christen added. “It was so good to see you, though.”

“You, too. Keep in touch, okay?”

“Will do. And don’t you dare let it be two years before you visit again.”

Crystal held up her hands, laughing. “I won’t, I swear!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Christen said, as she pulled Crystal in for a hug.

The ride home was quiet, Kelley having chosen a surprisingly mellow playlist. She even seemed to be out of words, concentrating instead on her phone. Christen almost asked if she was texting the mystery girl, but she refrained, putting it on her mental list of things to ask Kelley about tomorrow.

Pulling onto the highway, Christen’s thoughts turned to Tobin, and she realized this was the longest she’d gone without thinking of her in the past forty-eight hours.

Christen had to admit to being curious about her return. Though never this seriously, she'd been injured before. Why had she chosen to return now? What was different? 

Christen bit the inside of her cheek as she pondered the possibilities, then cursed mentally, realizing she was thinking about the very person she’d just congratulated herself on _not_ thinking about.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Kelley asked, bringing Christen out of her revelry.

“Since when do you carry cash?” Christen quipped, avoiding telling Kelley where all her thoughts lately were dwelling.

“You’ve got wit tonight."

“Lucy doesn't appreciate it, so I have to save it all for you."

“And I love it.” Kelley paused, her voice going quiet. “Sorry if I pushed too hard on the dating thing earlier.”

“It’s okay.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

Christen smiled over at her. “And I want the same for you.”

A beat passed, and then Kelley answered, “Great. Does that mean I can switch the music, because I put this playlist on for you, but I’m about to fall asleep over here.”

Christen chuckled softly. “Go ahead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Books mentioned in this chapter:  
>  _Furthermore_ by Tahereh Mafi
> 
> Thank you so much for the overwhelming response to this story! I would love to continue hearing your thoughts. ♥


	3. Chapter 3

Tobin was bored.

Staring at blank walls bored. Watching grass grow bored.

She’d only been here for two weeks, and she was already going out of her mind.

The visits from her family helped, of course. Katie had popped in a couple times, and her mom visited almost daily. Jeff and her dad had called, though neither lived nearby. Perry’s whole family had been by once, with her dropping Juno off for a few hours every other day or so.

But that still left so many hours to fill.

Tobin was an active person. She loved to move, to play, to create. 

She wasn’t meant to sit on a couch for hours at a time, doing nothing but watching episode after episode. It was fun for a while, but before long, that itch came to life inside her, and she couldn’t concentrate on what was happening on the screen any longer.

Tobin did the few, limited workouts she could - modified crunches, arm exercises, and the like. She did leg raises and ankle twists, as the physical therapist at the hospital had shown her. She did her daily Bible devotional. She played video games. She studied up on chess, which she tried to get Juno interested in and failed miserably.

She’d spent half an hour that morning trying to move across the apartment on crutches while balancing a soccer ball on her head.

(She hadn’t succeeded. Yet. But tomorrow was another day.)

Online shopping was another way to while away the time, but one that could be significantly more dangerous, something that became very apparent when Tobin found herself accidentally spending several hundred dollars in art supplies at 1 AM.

Art supplies that were supposed to arrive today but had yet to do so.

Tobin sighed.

It was, of course, barely after 9 AM. She’d already been up for hours, though, so it seemed later.

Alex was also supposed to call at some point today. Hopefully soon, since Tobin knew she liked to talk during her early morning jogs along one of the many unpaved nature trails that were so abundant in Portland. 

As though summoned by her thoughts, Tobin’s phone started vibrating, Alex’s photo popping up on the screen.

“Do you know what time it is?” Tobin asked, putting the phone to her ear and leaning back against the couch cushions.

“Shouldn’t that be my line?” Alex’s familiar raspy voice came through the line, and Tobin grinned.

“You’d think.”

Alex laughed, and the sound immediately made Tobin miss her best friend even more than she already did.

“Seriously, though, I didn’t wake you up, did I?” Tobin could hear Alex’s frown through the line.

“Nah. I’ve been up for ages.”

“You sleeping better?” 

“Yeah, finally. I’m still up super early and usually take a nap at some point, but at least I’m on a schedule now.”

“Good. I’m sure you’ll heal faster that way.”

“That’s what they tell me,” Tobin said. “Anyway, enough about me. How are you? How’s Portland? That goal you scored last week was _wicked_.”

“It was a pretty good one, huh?”

“Always so modest.”

Alex laughed and started catching her up on all the Thorns gossip, told her about the party AD and her fiancée had thrown for Sonny’s birthday.

“Speaking of Sonny,” Alex continued, “did you hear she might be abandoning us next year?”

“Mmhmm. She told me it was a possibility.”

“Something in the air lately that makes people want to go south…” Alex trailed off pointedly, and Tobin scoffed.

“Not the same. I’m sure as hell not moving down here. I’m about to jump out of my own skin already.”

“So you’re not secretly in talks to join the new expansion club, then?” Alex’s tone was teasing, but Tobin could hear the real concern hiding beneath.

“Ha! No. I mean, you know they asked me months ago, but that’s still a hard pass.”

“Good. I’d miss you too much. Besides, where would you get good coffee if you moved to Atlanta?”

“You make an excellent point.”

“I know I do.” A pause. “One sec, sorry. Morning! You ready?” 

Tobin listened as she greeted someone clearly meeting her for her jog. She waited until the small talk had died down, then said, “Who’s that?”

“Just Linds. She’s running with me this morning, though she _was_ supposed to be here ten minutes ago…”

Tobin chuckled as she heard Lindsey exclaim something on the other end of the line.

“Replacing me already?”

Alex snorted. “Right. Like you ever go on runs with me.”

“I would if you didn’t go at the asscrack of dawn.”

“Your loss.” She paused as Lindsey said something Tobin couldn’t quite make out. “It’s Tobin.”

“Hi, Tobin!” came Lindsey’s loud but muffled voice, and Tobin smiled.

“Tell her hi back.”

“Tobin says hi back.”

“Well, I’ll let you two enjoy your run.” Tobin tried not to let voice convey her disappointment at the short call.

“Thanks. Go enjoy some peaches or something.”

“I hate peaches.”

Alex laughed. “Of course you do. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

  


##

  


An hour later, Tobin decided she had to go somewhere.

Anywhere.

She’d barely been outside of the apartment since her arrival. Her mom brought groceries - despite Tobin’s objections, and she snuck a couple twenties in her purse when she wasn’t looking - and she relied on food delivery apps, which provided her favorite chicken strips, free of judgment.

Technology was a wonderful thing.

But it meant that she never had to leave. Which was great for her leg.

Not great for her mental health.

Because Tobin was going to go insane if she stayed in her apartment for a minute longer.

The new bookstore in town seemed like a logical choice. Tobin wasn’t much of a reader, but she could be if she found the right book at the right time.

And this seemed like a perfect time.

So Tobin locked up her apartment, climbed into her rented Jeep, and drove the two miles to the town square.

Tobin climbed out of the vehicle, careful with the placement of her crutches, the old-fashioned cobblestones just waiting to trip her up and end in a catastrophe. 

The front of The Story Corner was infinitely more inviting than the old antique shop it had replaced ever had been. There was a display of books in the window underneath a cheerful hand-drawn chalkboard sign that said _Summer Reading_. Books in all colors of the rainbow adorned the display, from large picture books to thick chapter books, all of them looking vibrant and happy and appealing.

Tobin entered the store and was greeted by a freckled brunette she didn’t recognize standing at the lone register on the right side of the door. 

“Hi, there!” The woman greeted. “Can I help you find anything?”

“No, thanks, I’m just browsing.” Tobin glanced around, taking in her surroundings. The whole room was bright and airy, and the walls were painted a cheerful robin’s egg blue where they weren’t covered in decorations. The wall across from her held a large, old-fashioned wardrobe, while the wall on the far left was adorned by a mural of a Hobbit hole, complete with a tiny, hobbit- (or child-) sized door that stood ajar. 

“This place is really cute.”

“Thanks.” The woman looked like she was about to continue, but she was interrupted by an elderly man stepping up to the register with a board book in hand.

Tobin ventured slowly around the store, wandering from room to room, each for a different level of books. There didn’t seem to be an adult section, but her jaw dropped when she entered the teen room, which was entirely Harry Potter themed, complete with house banners hanging from the walls.

She browsed for a few minutes, overwhelmed by the selection, not quite sure where to start. 

Tobin decided to go ask the opinion of the employee and see if she had any recommendations. She maneuvered around a girl who looked to be about twelve, clutching a small stack of books to her chest, and made her way back out to the front.

Tobin lingered by the picture books as she waited for the brunette to finish ringing up a woman with twins who looked like they were barely old enough for preschool.

“Hi, can I help- _Tobin_?”

Tobin spun around to find Christen stepping outside of the wardrobe directly behind her.

The wardrobe Tobin had assumed was for ambiance, but was apparently much more than met the eye.

Tobin’s jaw dropped as she stared, first at Christen, then behind her. The wardrobe doors were both open now, revealing two old fur coats hanging along the bar, one at either end, leaving several feet of room to step through. And you _could_ step through, because the wardrobe had no back, opening directly into the large room beyond. Tobin couldn’t see the whole room, but a portion of the back wall was within view, a richly colored forest scene that had Tobin wishing to poke her head in and explore further.

But she had more pressing concerns right now, such as the fact that Christen Press was standing in front of her, without warning, _again_.

Because apparently this was just the universe’s way of messing with her.

“Didn’t realize this place had a secret room,” Tobin joked, trying frantically to do something, anything to make this conversation less awkward than their first the week before. She swallowed down the emotions trying to crawl their way up her throat, smiled instead.

“Yeah.” Christen turned back toward the wardrobe and kept her eyes there, almost as though avoiding Tobin on purpose. “The Narnia room is my favorite part of the store, but I can’t take credit. Totally Kelley’s idea,” she said, raising her hand and pointing.

Tobin followed her indication over to the freckled brunette who had greeted Tobin initially. Then she fully processed Christen’s words and balked, whipping her head back. “Wait, this is your store?”

Christen nodded proudly, and her smile stretched into something genuine, something that made Tobin’s heart kick in her chest, the rest of her relaxing, just a bit. “Well, half. Kelley and I are co-owners. We just celebrated two years in June.”

“That’s amazing! Congratulations.”

Tobin bit back a hundred questions that sprang to mind, knowing Christen wouldn’t want to answer them, not sure she wanted to stick around to hear the answers.

(She always wanted to listen to Christen.)

(But that was always the problem, wasn’t it?)

“Thanks.”

Tobin felt the lull as it arrived, the awkward silence threatening to take over, so she kept talking, saying the first words that popped into her head. “Well, it’s cool. I was bored, so I thought I’d come find something to read.”

She could practically see Christen shift into customer service mode, her posture straightening. Her tone turned vaguely impersonal but friendly as she said, “We have plenty of those here. Did you need something? You looked like you were waiting for Kelley.”

“I was just going to ask for a recommendation.”

“Sure!” Christen’s tone brightened, like it always did when she got to talk about books. “What kind of book are you looking for?”

“I dunno.” Tobin shrugged. “Something fun. With magic, maybe?”

“Did you want teen or middle grade?”

“Whatever you recommend. You’re the expert.”

Christen turned to start walking, then paused. “Do you want to follow me, or would you rather I just bring you some? There’s a chair over in that corner,” she said, indicating the far wall by the picture books.

Tobin shook her head. “Nah, I’m fine. I can follow.”

As soon as she said the words, she realized that maybe Christen had just been trying to shorten their interaction under the guise of friendliness.

Oh, well. So much for that.

Tobin trailed after Christen, following her lead and treating her like an acquaintance and nothing more. It was weird more than anything, a strange middle ground that felt flimsy and pliable, but if Tobin focused on the books and didn’t think about the fact that Christen was _Christen_ , it wasn’t too bad.

As long as she tried not to stare.

As long as she tried not to feel.

Still, she couldn’t help but notice that the light green top Christen had on made her eyes pop with color. And her fingers were adorned with the same rings she’d been wearing the other day, when Tobin hadn’t had enough presence of mind to look at them closely. Today, she did, noting the absence of one on a specific finger of her left hand.

But Tobin didn’t let herself dwell on the thoughts. Instead, she nodded along as Christen mentioned Percy Jackson and Eragon and several other series. After a few minutes, Tobin wound up deciding on _Graceling_ , and Christen gave her a nod. “Good choice.” 

Christen stepped out of the teen room, Tobin directly behind her, ready to go pay and then leave, maybe read a couple chapters before her art supplies arrived. 

Maybe if she’d been paying slightly more attention, it wouldn’t have happened.

But Tobin’s head was full of trying not to think about Christen, of imagining how she was going to set up all her new art supplies this afternoon.

And she didn’t see it in time.

She barely caught a glimpse of the small child rounding the corner of the hall, running at full speed. Christen jumped back, her left foot hitting Tobin’s crutch just as Tobin was lifting it to move quickly backward.

Tobin wobbled dangerously, then felt gravity take over.

Abandoning the crutches, she reached wildly for the large display table in the center of the room instead. She managed to half-catch herself, but the stack of books shifted and toppled off the edge, and she was falling again, meeting the floor amidst a flurry of paperbacks. 

When it was all over, she blinked for a moment or two, taking stock, making sure she was entirely in one piece and her leg didn’t feel like it had been damaged further.

And then she looked around, saw Christen staring down at her in horror, realized what a picture she must make as she sat with her ass on the floor, surrounded by a dozen books scattered everywhere.

And there was absolutely nothing to do but laugh.

It rolled out of her in waves, deep guffaws that shook her chest.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Christen asked, kneeling down beside her, a worried crinkle between her furrowed brows.

Tobin stopped laughing and nodded, pressing a single hand over her eyes. “Any chance you’ve got a time machine hidden somewhere in here? It’d be really chill to back up about thirty seconds right about now.”

“Unfortunately, those were a little out of our budget,” she said, eyes still scanning Tobin with concern. “You’re okay, though?”

”Yeah. I got my hip a little bit on the corner, I think, but it’s fine.” 

“But your leg-“

“Is fine. Really” She shifted, reaching for a crutch, and Christen grabbed it first, moved it closer. 

“Oh, thank goodness. I’m so sorry.” Christen found the crutch that had fallen in the opposite direction and brought that one to Tobin, too.

Tobin grasped the table and started to stand, and Christen extended a hand.

Tobin took it.

It was quick, impersonal, but the warmth, the strength of her fingers-

It felt perfect.

It felt like there wasn’t a wall of history and guilt and awkwardness between them.

It felt like maybe, just maybe they might be able to move forward.

Maybe not today, but soon.

Tobin let go as soon as she was steady on her leg again, and Christen passed over her crutches, then started gathering the books that had scattered everywhere.

Tobin looked around and noticed for the first time that the girl she had noticed before was curled up on one of the two stuffed chairs in the far corner of the room. She wasn’t even looking at them, appearing to be engrossed in her book. Though how she could have missed the commotion, Tobin didn’t know. Maybe she was just pretending not to watch, to spare Tobin the embarrassment. 

Thankfully, there seemed to be no other witnesses. Tobin cast another glance at the mess and let out a small chuckle. “Sorry I kind of ruined your display there.”

“Are you kidding? I’m just glad you’re okay.” Christen stopped, speared her with a look. “You’re really okay, right?”

Tobin nodded. “All whole and in one piece, I promise.” She paused, considered. “Well, as much as I was before.”

Christen spared her a polite half smile, looked worriedly down at her leg. As though she could tell anything beyond the fact that it as obviously casted. She was probably wishing she had x-ray vision so she could double check, because of course she didn’t take Tobin at her word. “How is your leg, by the way?”

“Doing its thing. Just taking longer than I’d like.”

Christen nodded, then handed Tobin her copy of _Graceling_ , and Tobin took it, noticing that the front cover of the paperback was now slightly bent, doubtless from her fall.

Christen seemed to notice at the same time, reaching for the book again. “Here, let me get you a different copy.”

Tobin held it back. “No, this one’s fine.”

“Really, it’s no problem. We can send it back to the vendor and-“

“Chris.” The nickname slipped out, unbidden, and Tobin winced, tried to pretend she didn’t see the way Christen went utterly still. “It’s fine. I’m sure I’ll do a lot worse to it before I’m done.”

And suddenly the words didn’t sound like she was talking about a book at all.

Christen’s lips lifted, but the expression could barely be called a smile. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

Silence crept in, and Christen smoothed her hair back with both hands, a familiar nervous gesture Tobin had seen her make a thousand times before.

Tobin swallowed, the action difficult due to the way her throat was suddenly a little too tight.

“Well. Thanks.” She held up the book once more.

“No problem.” Christen answered carefully. She started reassembling the stack of books, didn’t look at Tobin when she said, “Careful going around corners.”

“Trust me, I will be.”

Tobin left without another word, found the brunette - Kelley, apparently - still standing at the front of the store at the register.

“This your first time in here?” she asked, scanning the barcode.

Tobin nodded. “Yeah. It’s a great place, though.”

“Don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Just move here, or are you visiting?”

“Um, both, sort of.”

Kelley laughed, tilting her head sideways. “How does that work?”

“Well, I grew up here, but I hadn’t been back in a long time. I messed up my leg, and I’m here visiting family while it heals.”

Kelley started to nod in understanding, then her head stopped in place, her eyes narrowing. “What’s your name?”

Tobin hesitated, taken aback at the sudden shift. “Uh, Tobin?”

“Oh.” Tobin had never seen hazel eyes look so icy. Without further comment, Kelley turned back to the register, then pinned Tobin with something that felt suspiciously close to a glare. “Your total is $11.97.”

Tobin fumbled with her wallet, trying to get her debit card out while also keeping her crutch from falling to the floor.

It didn’t help that Kelley stared at her the whole time, making her feel twice as awkward.

Tobin didn’t understand why, didn’t think she had met this woman before in her life.

And then it clicked: she knew about Tobin through Christen. If Christen and Kelley owned the store together, they were probably good friends.

Maybe more than friends.

Maybe Kelley was-

Which meant that maybe _Christen_ was-

Stomach suddenly in knots, Tobin dropped her card on the counter before managing to slide it back into her wallet on the second try.

Kelley held the book out toward her, and Tobin took it without meeting her eyes. 

“Thank you. Come again.” Kelley tone was cold, clearly conveying the opposite of her words.

“Will do,” Tobin managed to mumble before shuffling toward the door.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she exited the store, even though the heat of midday in late July was such that she was already covered in a thin sheen of sweat by the time she made it to her Jeep.

She sat in the vehicle for a moment, cranking up the air conditioning and waiting for it to cool off as she tried not to think about Christen and failed.

Surely it couldn’t be the case.

Tobin would know if Christen was anything but straight.

She would _know_.

But.

But she wouldn’t.

Because she didn’t know anything about Christen, not anymore. People figured themselves out at different times. Not everyone had a sexuality crisis at sixteen when they realized they were secretly in love with their best friend.

It wasn’t like Tobin had never wondered about Christen’s romantic life. Lucy’s existence seemed to imply that there most likely was one at some point, which Tobin had spent years trying not to think about.

She hadn’t been wearing a ring today, but plenty of couples weren’t married. That didn’t necessarily mean-

Tobin jumped when her phone started vibrating in her pocket, startling her out of her thoughts.

She looked down to see Perry’s face on the screen, and she hesitated for a second, then swiped to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Binny.” Juno’s voice came through the line, and Tobin’s mouth quirked up, even in the midst of her still roiling thoughts. “Are you busy?”

“Nope. What’s up?”

“I wanted to come to your apartment, but Mom said you might be busy.”

“Not at all!” Tobin exclaimed, relieved at the idea of a distraction from her thoughts. “You can totally hang with me. I can come pick you up in a few minutes, actually.”

“ _Yes_! I’ll go get ready.”

“Let me talk to your mom.”

She and Perry worked out the details, and twenty minutes later, Juno was in her back seat, chattering away as they drove back toward Tobin’s apartment. Tobin was happy to converse with her, keeping her mind safely away from other topics.

They arrived just before a UPS truck pulled up behind them, and Tobin made her way to the front door and unlocked it, letting Juno inside. She paused, watching the truck, hoping that it might contain her art supply packages.

It did.

Thankfully the driver turned out to be Todd, a jock who’d been a couple years ahead of her in high school and was the son of one of her mom’s friends. They exchanged pleasantries, and he took pity on Tobin and her injury, insisting on carrying all the packages into the second bedroom for her. The floor was half covered when he finished, her supplies filling no fewer than five boxes of all shapes and sizes.

Tobin thanked him multiple times, but he just waved her off. “Tell your mom hi for me.”

“I will. Thanks again.”

She closed the door against the heat, then moved to the bedroom, where Juno was already hopping around excitedly.

They spent an hour unpacking the supplies and deciding on the setup for the room, their original plan of Mario Kart forgotten, Tobin’s new book lying discarded somewhere in the living room.

Since the apartment had come pre-furnished, there was a twin-sized bed in the room, but thankfully, it was already pushed out of the way against the wall. Covered with a tarp, it would make an excellent drying station. There was a decent amount of room left for an easel, her supplies, and the insanely expensive chair she’d had delivered from the office supply store the day before.

“What do you want to make?” Tobin asked as she handed the small artist’s smock over to Lucy, a last-minute addition to her cart she was now grateful for.

“A picture for Lucy.” Juno said definitively, as though she’d already been thinking the matter over and had come to a firm decision.

“What kind of picture?”

“Can we do one of those pictures that’s a bunch of pictures together?”

“A collage?”

Juno shrugged. “I don’t know what it’s called. But I thought we could do a bunch of her favorite things and then give it to her as a surprise.”

“That’s such a nice idea, Junebug. We can totally do that.”

Making a collage was, it turned out, easier said than done.

Tobin hadn’t really painted much since last offseason, and she did more abstracts than anything else. Her sketching skills were more than a little rusty. In the end, she decided to trace most of the designs, which wound up being more fun anyway, because Juno could find the pictures she wanted to use on Tobin’s laptop while Tobin worked on figuring out how to put them all together.

It was a good distraction, keeping her thoughts just occupied enough that she was able to keep her mind from wandering back to Christen.

At least, too often.

They spent the entire afternoon on the project, Juno bouncing excitedly when she finally got to break out the paints. They mixed a bunch of different color combinations, lined up in tiny Dixie cups along the dresser, and Juno painstakingly painted in the designs that Tobin had drawn.

In the end, they had a collage of Lucy’s favorite things, from Charmander to Captain Marvel to a slightly blobby but hopefully recognizable horse. It was a little messy and definitely not perfect, but Juno grinned at it like it was the best thing she’d ever seen.

Tobin held up a hand for a high five. “Good job, Junebug. You’ll be a master artist in no time.”

  


##

  


“Story time was over an hour ago, you know.”

Christen looked up from the computer when Kelley walked into the break room, which also doubled as their office, as well as a storage room.

It wasn’t much, just a windowless rectangular space featuring a desk with a painfully slow Windows desktop, a folding table with three chairs around it, and a minifridge. The entire left wall was taken up by plain grey metal shelves, containing office supplies and all the miscellaneous stuff they used for events.

Christen kept meaning to do something to cheer the room up a little bit, but she never seemed to have the time.

She leaned back in her office chair and stretched her back as she answered, “I know.” 

“Which means you should no longer be here. You’re not on the schedule.”

“I needed to finish up some numbers.”

Kelley rolled her eyes as she grabbed a Coke from the minifridge and popped it open. “Of course you did. No Lucy today?”

Christen shook her head. “She spent the morning with my parents. I’m picking her up as soon as I’m done.”

“Doing anything fun?”

“I’m thinking ice cream.”

“Always an excellent choice.”

Christen turned back to the computer, but Kelley’s eyes were practically drilling a hole into the side of her head. She was completely quiet, but Christen still couldn’t concentrate, a fact she knew Kelley would be aware of and was counting on. Finally, she caved and looked back with an annoyed sigh.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Spit it out, Kel.”

“Tobin was here.”

Christen had a sudden flash of memory, seeing Tobin sprawled on the floor, surrounded by books, laughing, her face completely transformed by the expression.

It didn’t fit at all with the Tobin she’d constructed in her head. 

It did, however, fit perfectly with the Tobin she’d known a lifetime ago.

Christen bit back a sigh at the thought, focused on Kelley again. “I know.”

“You do?” Kelley tilted her head in surprise.

Christen nodded. “I ran into her when I was setting up for story time. Helped her find a book.”

“How the hell did I miss that?”

“Don’t know. Maybe you were actually working. Like some of us are trying to do now…” Christen shot her a wry look, but Kelley was unimpressed.

“How’d it go?”

Christen heaved a deep breath, spinning her chair in Kelley’s direction, giving up on her attempt to work. “I don’t know. It was weird. Not as awkward as last time, but I just…I don’t know how to _be_ around her. We’re not friends, but trying to act like we’re complete strangers just seems stupid. Like, where’s the middle ground? How do you talk to someone you haven’t spoken to in over a decade when you can still recite her old cell number by heart?” Then there was the fact that just making eye contact with those brown eyes, so familiar and foreign all at once, felt like a sharp stick being poked between her ribs. “And on top of that, add in the way she acted and the fact that I have a right to be mad at her.” Kelley nodded with entirely too much enthusiasm, but Christen continued pointedly, “ _But_ , that’s not something I want to, like, get back at her for. I just want to move on with our lives and be able to interact normally. Y’know?”

Kelley raised her eyebrows. “That’s a lot.”

“It is.”

Kelley waited, giving her a look like she expected Christen to continue, but she wasn’t really sure what else to say. Her thoughts were still too much of a mess, and if she started pulling at a thread too hard, she didn’t know just how much would unravel.

“So, what’d you think of her?” Christen asked instead, deflecting back in Kelley’s direction.

“I have to say, she’s not what I expected,” Kelley said, taking another drink of her soda.

“What did you expect?”

“Not sure, but it wasn’t that.”

Christen frowned. “Meaning…?”

“Meaning, she’s _hot_.”

Christen let out something akin to a surprised laugh, but it felt slightly strangled, like she was choking on nothing but air. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing.” Kelley shrugged. “I’m just saying. She might be an asshole I’ll hate until the end of time, but she’s an asshole with amazing arms.”

Christen frowned. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Which part?”

“Any of it. And you shouldn’t hate her. If I’m over it, you should be, too.”

“No, see, as best friend, it’s my job to take up the grudge on your behalf. That way you get to be healthy and move on, but I’m still here to make sure she doesn’t live it down.”

Christen shook her head. “Like I said before, that’s really not necessary.”

“Just saying. My bitch side is available, and I don’t get to let her out nearly often enough.”

Christen snorted out a laugh. “I doubt I’ll need her, but I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“That’s all I ask.”

  


##

  


The following Monday afternoon, Christen was in the pickup line at the elementary school when she spotted Lucy walking toward the car, carrying a huge rectangle nearly as tall as she was.

Christen twisted around in her seat when Lucy climbed inside, watching her maneuver the large piece of art inside.

“Mama, you’ll _never guess_ what Juno made for me!”

Christen cringed as Lucy set the large canvas in the backseat, facing the upholstery, hoping like hell it wasn’t something they’d painted that day.

“Hey, love, that’s not still wet, is it?” Christen asked as Lucy buckled herself into her booster seat.

“No. It’s not from today,” Lucy said, and Christen breathed a sigh of relief, turning back toward the front of the car and pulling out of the pick-up line. “Wait, you’ve gotta see it!” 

Christen watched in the rear view mirror as Lucy grabbed the painting, clearly set on showing it off immediately and not waiting until they got home. They were right where the parking lot split off, so she turned to the right instead of heading out onto the road, pulling into a parking spot. Once the car was still, she turned around to face Lucy, who was holding up the painting, so large it obscured her face.

“Can you see?” Lucy’s voice was muffled behind the canvas.

The collage didn’t seem to have a theme, other than the fact that it was made up of all the things Lucy loved. Even her name was painted in bright green, her favorite color, the large, swirling, graffiti-esque letters curling artfully around and between each picture.

It was colorful and fun and creative and most definitely beyond the artistic abilities of the average seven year old.

And Christen loved Juno, but her artistic abilities were most definitely average.

“Wow, that’s amazing! Juno made that?” Christen asked, her voice incredulous.

Lucy nodded, setting the painting carefully aside, satisfied that Christen had appreciated it.

“Yeah. She and Binny made it together, just for me.”

“Who?”

Lucy shot her a remonstrative look that had Christen holding back a laugh. “Her aunt, ‘member? The one with the pool?”

“Oh, Tobin.”

Tobin. Of course. Because heaven forbid the woman get any _less_ confusing. 

“Was it for a special reason?” Christen asked, backing out of the parking spot and resuming their trip home.

“No. Juno just said it was a best friend present.”

“Well, that was very nice of her.”

They kept chatting all the way home, in the way Christen had perfected, where only half her attention was focused on what she was saying.

Because her other half couldn’t stop thinking about Tobin.

Tobin, who had been one of the sweetest people she’d known.

Tobin, whom she had spent years trying to convince herself was a selfish jerk.

Tobin, who laughed at herself and spent what was clearly hours on a project with her niece.

Tobin, who was getting more confusing by the second.

Christen tried to push Tobin from her mind, and she was mostly successful for the rest of the afternoon, while she and Lucy stopped for ice cream, then went shopping for new shoes for Lucy, who’d outgrown her old ones.

They swung by The Story Corner for an hour, so Kelley could take her dinner break in peace. Lucy spent the entire time reading in the hobbit hole, which was her favorite spot. Christen had hoped to start working on designing the new window display, but the constant stream of customers didn’t allow for much progress.

Eventually, Kelley came back, sporting a new stain on her blue top that was definitely barbecue sauce. 

“You’re a child,” Christen said, digging out a Tide pen from her purse.

Kelley shrugged. “I’ve been called worse. Thankfully my best friend is a regular Girl Scout.”

“Always prepared, that’s me.”

“Speaking of which, is Lucy still stuck on that?”

Christen nodded, glancing over toward the hobbit room and lowering her voice. “I’ve been talking to Perry, and I think we’re going to enroll them both next month.”

“Oh, nice! She’ll be thrilled.”

“I know, right? And I won’t have to hear her asking about it anymore,” Christen joked. 

“I always wanted to be a scout.”

“You should sign up. I think you’re a little tall, but you’d fit right in with the other children.”

“Haha,” Kelley muttered sarcastically. She held her shirt out to inspect it, the stain having vanished. She handed the pen back to Christen, who capped it and returned it to her purse. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

  


##

  


A few hours later, Christen was putting Lucy to bed, after a dinner and a viewing of _Brave_.

When Lucy was still little more than a baby, Christen had started the tradition of telling her a story before bed. Most of the time, the tales came from books, though sometimes, she made them up herself. 

As Lucy had gotten older, she’d stopped falling asleep during the stories, and they became less about putting her to sleep and more about a quiet time, a sacred ritual that couldn’t be missed. Even when Lucy spent the night at her grandparents, she brought one of her favorite books for them to read to her. But the following night, she would complain to Christen without fail that no one besides her did the voices just right.

Christen, of course, pretended reproof, while secretly feeling thrilled.

The tradition was one of her favorite things. She knew the it wouldn’t last forever, knew that eventually Lucy would get older and think it too juvenile. And the thought broke her heart.

So even if Christen rushed it occasionally, thinking of the book she was in the middle of, or the giant pile of laundry that needed to be folded before it wrinkled too badly, they never, ever skipped it.

“Which book do you want tonight?” Christen asked, eyeing Juno’s shelf, which was full to bursting. “ _Interstellar Cinderella_? _Ada Twist_?”

They’d worked their way through a couple chapter books, but Lucy was in a phase where she wanted picture books. Christen suspected it was because she allowed two picture books, whereas she only allowed one chapter, and in Lucy’s brain, two was better.

“No, one of yours.”

Christen turned away from the bookshelves and sat in the stuffed chair next to Lucy’s bed.

“Which one?”

“The one with the two princesses.”

“The pirate ship one or the dragon one?”

“The dragon one.”

Christen grinned. “Of course. You know that’s my favorite.”

“Once upon a time, there were two kingdoms…”

Lucy snuggled down under the covers as she listened, extending her hand so that Christen could hold it. This was the best thing about telling her own stories instead of books, that Lucy’s fingers stayed grasped in hers the whole time as she listened. Lucy's hands weren't as small as they once had been, button-sized palms and teeny-tiny fingers that had been dwarfed by her own. But they still still enfolded perfectly into Christen's, and her heart squeezed even as she spoke.

Christen kept their hands together as she told the story. It was an exciting one, with dragons and swords and mistaken identities and kissing at the end.

She kept talking until the two princesses got their happily ever after, then leaned down to kiss Lucy’s forehead.

“‘Night, Luce. I love you.”

“Love you, Mama.” Lucy answered, her tone drowsy, and Christen’s heart melted the way it did every single time she heard those words, without fail.

She shut out the light and closed the door behind her, letting Lucy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Books mentioned in this chapter:
> 
>  _Graceling_ by Kristin Cashore  
>  _Interstellar Cinderella_ by Deborah Underwood  
>  _Ada Twist, Scientist_ by Andrea Beaty
> 
> Much as I would like to claim otherwise, Christen's bookstore is heavily based on one I've been to irl, so I can't take credit for any of the design ideas. But it was basically my favorite place I've ever been, and I had to use it as inspiration.
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support. Your comments mean the world! ♥


	4. Chapter 4

_Mossy Hollow High, September, Freshman Year_

  


“This is…” Tobin trailed off, staring suspiciously down at the brown hunk on her plate that matched Christen’s. It was supposedly meatloaf, at least according to the weekly menu taped on the cafeteria wall. But Christen would not have been able to tell from looking at it.

Christen took a small bite of hers and grimaced. “Disgusting.”

“The green beans are okay,” Tobin said, taking a cautious nibble of her own. Then she sat up a little straighter and set her fork down. “Wait, hold on, I think…”

Christen watched as Tobin’s head disappeared as she rummaged through her backpack, then reappeared. She held out a snack-size bag of Cheetos. “Wanna split it?”

Christen giggled. “Cheetos and green beans. Lunch of champions.”

Tobin pulled open the bag and set it halfway in between them, and Christen took a small handful.

The Cheetos were gone in minutes, and Christen was wiping the orange residue onto her napkin when Tobin sighed dolefully. “What I wouldn’t give for Molly’s meatloaf right now.”

“Whose?”

Tobin’s mouth dropped open, distracted from her woes. “Molly’s. Molly’s Diner?”

“Oh. I haven’t been there yet.” Though Christen had, of course, seen the place. After a month in Mossy Hollow, she had seen pretty much everything the town of 6,018 people had to offer. 

“You haven’t been to Molly’s?” Tobin asked, aghast.

Christen shook her head.

“Um, we have to fix that, like, as soon as possible. It’s my job as your first and best Mossy Hollow friend to introduce you to Molly’s.”

“Is it that good?” Christen asked doubtfully, remembering the plain grey building with the sign that looked like it had been painted somewhere around 1960.

Tobin nodded with enthusiasm. “My mom says if I eat there too often, I’ll die of a heart attack before I’m twenty, but it’s totally worth it.”

Christen snorted, inserting a healthy dose of amused sarcasm in her tone when she replied, “That sounds promising.”

“You’ll love it, I swear.”

“If you say so.”

“I promise. We can go when you come over after practice tomorrow. It’s close enough to my house that we can walk.”

Not much in the town wasn’t, a fact Christen still wasn’t accustomed to.

“If you insist.”

The next day, Christen was sitting in a booth with a cracked vinyl seat and eating the best french fries she’d had in her entire life.

“Oh my gosh,” Christen moaned. The fries were somehow the perfect blend of soft on the inside but slightly crispy on the outside, and they were bursting with salty flavor.

“See?” Tobin said, grinning victoriously as she cut into her chicken-fried steak.

“You weren’t wrong. I’m coming here every day. I could live on these french fries.”

Tobin nodded as she dipped a hunk of her steak into her mashed potatoes, then shoveled the entire gigantic bite in her mouth.

(Christen should probably have been disgusted, but if it was as good as these french fries, she didn’t blame her at all.)

  


##

  


“Harry Heath?”

Tobin looked up from her book and frowned, glancing around the physical therapy office waiting room. It was empty other than the teenager on his phone who was waiting for the woman who had gone back a couple minutes earlier.

“Harry?” Tobin asked the blonde woman with the clipboard, double checking she had heard correctly.

The woman flipped back through her notes, then looked at Tobin. “Yes, Harry Heath. Is that you?”

“Uh, well, I’ve got the Heath part covered, but I’m Tobin.” Tobin shook her head. “Not Harry.”

The woman’s brow wrinkled as she took in Tobin’s leg, then her clipboard again. “Come on back, and we’ll see if we can get this cleared up.”

Tobin stood and followed her, and after a few minutes spent confirming that all of her information matched the records other than the first name, the woman - her new physical therapist, whose name was Allie, she’d learned - shook her head.

“Well, this is definitely you! Must have been some weird mix-up when the hospital sent your records over. I’ll have it corrected in our system.”

Tobin chuckled. “Hopefully it’s a one-time thing. Otherwise you’re gonna have a whole lot of confused not-Harrys on your hands.”

Allie laughed. “Maybe I’ll just start calling all my patients Harry. Might be easier that way. I’d never forget a name and have to pretend to look through my notes just to remember it.”

“Why stop at patients? We could all just be Harry. Bypass the need for unique names entirely.”

“It _is_ a fun name.”

“You’d make an excellent Harry.”

Allie put a hand to her chest as though flattered. “Why thank you, so would you.”

The next forty-five minutes were spent more productively, as Allie helped Tobin with her injured leg. They worked on hip mobility for a while, and then Allie showed her different leg lifts and rotations she should do to keep her leg as strong and flexible as possible while it healed.

It wasn’t nearly as miserable as it could have been, though. Tobin laughed more than she had since her return to Mossy Hollow, Allie’s sense of humor seeming to match hers perfectly. The time flew by, and before Tobin knew it, they were wrapping up.

“I’d really like to see you twice a week for a while,” Allie said, marking something down on her clipboard. “We’ll see how you progress, then we can bump it down to once a week after a month or so.”

Tobin nodded in agreement.

“Make sure you do these exercises _every day_. No slacking. Got it?” Allie pulled a joking face, but her eyes were clearly serious, and Tobin shot her a thumbs up.

“Trust me, I want out of this thing as fast as possible.”

“Good. Just remember not to overdo it, either. That’s even worse in the long run.”

“I hear you. I’ll keep it chill.”

“Perfect.” Allie moved out into the hallway, and Tobin followed her to the waiting room, where she stood with the door held open.

“See you Tuesday.”

“See ya, Harry,” Tobin said, sailing past on her crutches, and she heard Allie laugh behind her.

“Bye, Harry.”

  


##

  


Later that afternoon, Tobin sat on a lounge chair pulled up to the very edge of the apartment pool, watching Juno and Lucy. Even though Perry had told her both girls had taken swimming lessons earlier in the summer, Tobin didn’t want to take any chances, and she’d spent the past hour supervising closely as the girls splashed each other and dove in the shallow water for diving sticks and invented imaginary games, usually involving one or both of them being transformed into a mermaid.

Now, the girls had climbed out of the pool and were drinking from the juice pouches Tobin had produced from the tote bag.

“You know, you’re gonna have a really funny tan,” Juno said, taking a slurp of her juice through the tiny straw.

“What?” Tobin asked.

“On your legs.” Juno gestured to Tobin’s legs, on display in her swimsuit, which she was wearing despite the fact that she still wasn’t allowed to actually be in the pool, due to the cast that was now covered in doodles from Juno. “One is going to be all tan and the other is gonna be all white and shrively.”

Lucy giggled at her friend’s comment, and Tobin pulled a face. “Gee, thanks.”

“I’ll love you anyway,” Juno said with faux sympathy.

Tobin grinned. “I appreciate that. At least one person will still think I’m cool.”

“I’ll still think you’re cool,” Lucy volunteered. “I’ll even invite you to my birthday party.”

“Isn’t your birthday in December?” Tobin asked, her brow wrinkling as she tried to make the connection.

Lucy nodded, then grinned slyly. “It’ll be cold, so you’ll have to wear long pants.”

Lucy and Juno lost it at that, giggling as Tobin’s jaw dropped and she pretended offense.

Really, she was thinking about how much Lucy reminded her of a young Christen, with their similar smiles. Today, Lucy’s revealed a gap from a tooth she had lost the day before, a tale she had told with great dramatics already. Juno had looked a little grey when she mentioned the blood, but Lucy told the tale like a proud war veteran.

Still laughing, the girls climbed back into the pool and continued playing until Tobin had to drag them away after nearly another hour.

“Your mom will be here in ten minutes. We need to get you dried off.” 

Lucy heaved a dramatic sigh, and Tobin bit back a laugh.

“Fine.”

It took a few minutes to gather their things, and then they made the trek back to Tobin’s apartment, which was thankfully short. Juno carried the tote bag, while Tobin made sure she didn’t catch any cracks in the pavement with her crutches, simultaneously keeping an eagle eye out for any cars going too quickly through the apartment complex property.

She didn’t know how parents did it, staying in charge and keeping an eye out for danger at all times. She was stressed from two hours in a pool and a walk through a parking lot.

They arrived back at the apartment with three minutes to spare before Christen was supposed to arrive.

Tobin sent Lucy off to the bathroom with a large, fluffy towel and the plastic bag of spare clothes she’d brought with her when Perry had dropped off both girls earlier in the day.

A knock sounded before Lucy emerged, and Tobin hopped over toward the front door, taking a deep breath before she opened it.

The sight of Christen still hit her like a punch to the gut, but at least this time she’d had a chance to steel herself against it.

Tobin wondered if this would ever stop, if she would ever be able to look at Christen without being completely overwhelmed by the past.

She also wondered if it was time to try to do something about it.

She’d been thinking about it a lot in the week since the bookstore incident. Tobin may have come back to Mossy Hollow with the intention of avoiding Christen, but she had started to realize just how ridiculous of an idea that really was. It simply wasn’t possible.

And maybe it wasn’t what she wanted anymore, anyway.

Maybe she wanted was exactly this: Christen, on her doorstep, the late afternoon sun forming a halo around her silhouette, ready to pick her daughter up from a day of fun with her best friend. But she wanted Christen to be at ease, to feel free to waltz into Tobin’s living room and plop down onto the couch and wait while her daughter finished with whatever was taking her so long. She wanted this weirdness between them gone.

But that wouldn’t happen on its own. They would never progress past this awkward stalemate if the first steps were never taken, and Tobin knew it was on her to do so.

“Er, Lucy’s still changing, sorry. We just got back.”

Christen quirked a brow. “Let me guess, they begged for five more minutes?”

“Like six times.”

Christen laughed, a small thing that made Tobin’s heart soar. “They do that.”

“So I’ve learned.”

A beat of silence passed, and Tobin knew she had two options. She could invite Christen inside to wait and hope that Juno talked enough for the both of them.

Or.

Or she could just do it. She could take the plunge before she let herself overthink it even more than she already had.

“Listen. I wanted to ask you something,” Tobin said, choosing option two before she could talk herself out of it.

Christen’s face immediately transformed into an unreadable mask. “What’s up?”

“I feel like we should…” Tobin reached up and rubbed the back of her neck. “Talk. About, uh, things.” Tobin cursed the fact that she couldn’t ever seem to find exactly the right words. “Would you want to grab lunch or something? Like, just the two of us, without…“ Tobin gestured over her shoulder, in the vague direction of the girls.

Christen worried her lip between her teeth, and Tobin wished she knew her better now. Wished she could read what was happening behind those impenetrable eyes. There’d been a time when she would have known for certain, would barely have needed to glance at Christen to know how she was feeling. But Christen had gotten better at hiding her emotions in the past years, and their connection, once so powerful, lay on the ground between them, severed by Tobin and gone rusty with disuse.

“I know this really great diner,” Tobin added on a wave of sudden inspiration, hoping that Christen would know what she was referencing.

The corner of Christen’s mouth lifted, just a bit, and the sight of that tiny movement made Tobin’s entire world come to a standstill. “I’d really like that, actually.”

Her heart burst into the samba, a wave of joy quickly transforming into terror as Tobin realized this meant she was actually going to have the conversation she’d spent her entire adult life avoiding. Tobin swallowed, her brain suddenly spinning excuses she could use to get out of it, ways to take back the words. She pushed them aside, forcing herself to speak. “Great. Would, uh- what day would work best for you? My schedule is pretty free,” she said, pushing her lips up into what she hoped was a convincingly joking smile.

“Sunday, maybe? I can, um, text you?” Christen asked, and Tobin nodded quickly.

Christen took her phone out of her purse and kept her gaze on it as she tapped a few times, then said, “Go ahead.”

It took Tobin a moment to realize Christen was asking for her number, and she hesitated just long enough that Christen looked up at her questioningly. Tobin willed away a blush as she rambled off the digits while Christen put them into her phone carefully.

“I just texted you, so you can add me. I’ll let you know.”

“Great.” Tobin realized that was the second time she’d said that in as many minutes, but her brain was too full right now to come up with a better response. “The diner I meant was Molly’s,” Tobin blurted, just in case Christen hadn’t understood her earlier reference.

Christen nodded once, and her smile was the smallest, most enigmatic thing. “Yeah, Tobin, I know.”

  


##

  


As Christen walked into Molly’s on Sunday, it still felt surreal, the fact that Tobin had invited her here and hadn’t backed out. She hadn’t seen this coming, had simply assumed Tobin would continue to ignore her as much as possible, like she had for so many years.

But maybe it was time she stopped assuming things about Tobin.

When she spotted Tobin in a booth in the far back corner, already waving her over, Christen waited for her old scars to ache. Instead, they gave only a small twinge as she met Tobin’s eyes, saw her hesitant smile, the way her fingers tapped nervously on the tabletop.

Christen had to admit to her own set of nerves, as well as curiosity as to what Tobin had to say for herself. She didn’t know whether or not to expect an apology, and it seemed almost too much to hope for after so many years, yet not enough at the same time.

“Hey,” Tobin greeted simply, once Christen reached the table.

“Hi.” Christen slid into in the booth across from Tobin, taking in the half-full glass of chocolate milk, the way she had clearly already been waiting for a while, had probably arrived extra early just to make sure she wasn’t late.

It caused a swirl of emotions Christen wasn’t prepared for.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. Couldn’t pass up Molly’s,” Christen said, smiling and hoping it didn’t look too forced. She knew there would be no way to get through this meeting without awkwardness, but part of her longed to smooth things over, to make the conversation as easy as possible.

“I’m so pumped to have it again. I’m gonna have to order at least half the menu,” Tobin said with a grin, holding up the laminated piece of paper.

“You can just come again, you know.”

“True.”

“You could probably make it through the menu in a week or two, as long as you’re planning on staying around that long.” It was a question wrapped in a statement, and Tobin seemed to realize it.

“I’ve got plenty of time,” she said, keeping her eyes trained on her menu. “Planning on hanging around until my leg is better.”

“How long are you on those things, anyway?” Christen asked, nodding over to the crutches wedged in behind the booth.

Tobin followed her gesture, then turned back, rolling her eyes. “At _least_ another two weeks, according to my doctor. Probably three. Then the cast comes off, and I have to wear a walking boot for a million years.”

Christen bit back a smile at the dramatics. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“You only say that because you don’t have to use them. If I could set them on fire, I would. The only good thing is that I like to think I’m getting pretty ripped,” Tobin said with a smirk, and Christen scoffed.

“Like you’re not already.”

“Hey, c’mon, don’t take away my one victory.”

“I take it back. I’m sure you were regular noodle-arms before.”

“Thank you.”

Silence slipped in, seemingly their constant companion these days, and Christen fidgeted with her rings beneath the table. She wondered if every interaction between them would be like this: made of small talk and uncomfortable pauses where the past between them lived unacknowledged.

Holding back a sigh, she wracked her brain for another topic. It seemed too obvious to bring up Juno and Lucy already, though she could ramble on about Lucy for hours if needed.

Thankfully her need for a new subject was eliminated as a new voice entered the conversation: the waitress appearing to take their orders. After she left, the lull continued, and Christen was reduced to making comments about the weather. Tobin latched onto the subject, complaining about the heat when she had grown accustomed to cool, cloudy Portland.

“I do miss the sun there sometimes, though,” she admitted. “So at least we have that here.”

Christen wondered if she realized she’d said ‘we’ in reference to Georgia, wondered if part of Tobin still considered this home, despite how rarely she visited.

But that certainly was not a topic Christen was going to broach, and with this topic dwindling to a halt, she was about to play the Lucy card. The only thing that stopped her was Tobin straightening in her seat, clearing her throat as though about to say something.

But she didn’t get the chance.

“Tobin Heath, as I live and breathe,” came a loud voice to her right with a deep Southern accent. Christen bit the inside of her lip in frustration, and she and Tobin both looked over simultaneously to find a familiar middle-aged woman striding up to the table with her hands on her hips.

“Hey, MJ,” Tobin greeted, her face lighting up in a huge, genuine smile. “Long time, no see.”

“Long time? Pff,” MJ exclaimed, her box-dyed flaming red hair shaking as she tossed her head back to scoff. MJ, short for Molly Jr., was daughter of the diner’s original Molly, and her talent for theatrics was matched only by her thirst for gossip. “ _Forever_ , more like it. I didn’t believe Donna when she told me it was you out here. Had to come see for myself.”

“It’s really me.”

“‘Bout time you came home. What, you think you can get cooking like mine in Portland?”

“I can’t.” Tobin said, woefully shaking her head back and forth. “That’s why I finally came back. You know I live for your chicken fried steak.”

“Had nothin’ to do with those cute little nieces of yours?”

“Nah, you know me. All about the food.”

MJ laughed, deep and loud. “Can’t blame you there. So, whatchy’all out doin’ today?” she asked, looking back and forth between the two of them with a gaze that was seemingly innocent, but Christen knew she was saving every detail, ready to dole out the gossip to anyone who asked - and probably to some who didn’t.

“Just having some lunch and catching up,” Tobin said, polite code for _mind your own business_ , which MJ respected, not pressing any further.

“I’ll leave you to it, then. Good to see you, girl. Better not be this long before it happens again, though,” she said with a faux disciplinary look.

Tobin held up her hands. “Won’t be, I promise.”

“Glad to hear it. Tell your mama I said ‘hi,’ okay?” 

“Will do.”

MJ turned to Christen. “Good to see you, too, Christen. I’ll let Billy know to double up on the fries,” she said with a wink.

Christen laughed. “Thanks, MJ. You’re the best.”

MJ walked away, and when Christen met Tobin’s gaze again, it looked like she was holding back a laugh.

“What?”

“Nothing. You and your fries,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“Hey, your fault. You’re the one who introduced me to them. You turned me into a monster.”

“A fry monster, that’s you.” 

Tobin’s smile was a little hesitant, like maybe she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to tease Christen like this, but Christen only leaned forward, said, “Want to know something crazy?”

“What?”

“Lucy doesn’t like french fries.”

Tobin’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“I know!” Christen exclaimed, drawing back.

“Are you sure she’s your daughter?”

“Trust me, the thirteen hours I spent in labor were very memorable.”

“But still. Maybe she got switched at the hospital or something. You never know. I just can’t imagine a kid of yours not liking fries.”

“Works out well for me, though. I get to steal them all.”

Tobin snorted. “You would.”

Christen chuckled, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say, and they fell into a lull again. Tobin toyed with her straw wrapper and sipped her chocolate milk, and Christen looked out the diner window behind Tobin’s head, watched as a bird landed on a sadly dehydrated tree limb. She wished their food would arrive more quickly just to give them something else to do.

“So,” Tobin started, and it was only one word, but something about her tone drew Christen’s attention immediately. She watched as Tobin straightened up in her seat and cleared her throat. “I was going to wait until we were, like, done, but I kind of just want to put this out there.”

Tobin glanced around, as though checking to make sure MJ wasn’t still hanging around, looking for gossip, and Christen idly wondered if Tobin had chosen this secluded booth on purpose.

Then Tobin leaned forward, her eyes more serious than Christen ever remembered seeing them. They were dead set on Christen’s and so incredibly earnest that she nearly had to look away. Christen’s heart jumped into her throat as she readied herself for whatever Tobin might say.

“I’m bad at speeches. You know that. But just…if you could give me a chance and hear me out, I’d appreciate it.” She took a deep breath. “First, know that I absolutely don’t expect forgiveness, because I know I don’t deserve it. Like, at all. But I wanted to say this anyway. It’s a little bit for myself, honestly, because I can’t talk to you without feeling guilty, and I hate that. But mostly, it’s for you, because you deserve it to hear it.”

Christen nodded slowly, and Tobin continued. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for walking away the way I did, for ignoring you like that when you’d been the best friend I’d ever had. I was…” she hesitated, her eyes dropping for the first time before she looked up to meet Christen’s gaze again, “dealing with some things. And I didn’t know how to handle it. It’s not an excuse, but I guess more like, an explanation? But anyway, it was wrong. I was young and stupid, and I’m sorry.”

Tobin blew out a slow breath, seemingly finished, and Christen considered her response in the quiet that followed the outpouring of words.

She had thought of what she might say, of course, in the case that Tobin apologized, and the one thing Christen knew for sure was that she couldn’t say _I forgive you_. Not entirely truthfully. Christen had forgiven her, for the most part, but there was still a tiny part of her that couldn’t quite do it. Not without an explanation. And while Tobin had given her one, it had been vague.

Maybe it was the truth. Maybe she’d never had one specific reason, and it had simply been a combination of all the insane things she’d been dealing with, with her parents’ divorce and the national team and school. And even if she had, it made sense that Tobin wouldn’t be willing to disclose her reasons fully. They weren’t best friends anymore. They were barely more than acquaintances. They didn’t tell each other everything, didn’t share secrets or confidences. That simply wasn’t a level of trust that existed between them at this point in their lives, history or not.

Christen knew that apologizing must have been incredibly difficult, and she was touched that Tobin was still distressed at the thought of her pain, even after all this time.

“I appreciate that,” Christen said, trying her best to convey her sincerity, speaking carefully as she gave every word consideration. “Really. I do. That means a lot. I’m not going to pretend it makes everything better, because you really hurt me, and nothing you can say will change that.” Tobin nodded, those dark eyes filled with such naked regret that it nearly broke Christen’s heart. She had to pause and swallow before she continued, “But it was also a long time ago. And whatever happened, I’d like to just start fresh and move forward.”

Tobin’s shoulders sagged in relief. “I’d like that.”

“Good.”

And as they sat there, looking at each other, Christen felt like she could breathe fully in Tobin’s presence for the first time since her return. They didn’t say anything, but Christen didn’t feel the need to fill the silence this time. She simply waited, letting the moment stretch and wind itself around them, linking them together in its tenuous grasp. It felt monumental, like the turning of a page. Not a clean slate, but a new chapter. 

Christen was so caught up in it that she startled when their waitress plunked down a plate in front of her, not having heard her approach. She broke eye contact with Tobin to thank the woman, and when Christen looked back, Tobin was enthusiastically unwrapping her silverware, the moment having officially passed.

In its place was an ease, new and tentative and surprising, and Christen was happy to settle into it.

Tobin moaned dramatically at the first bite of her food, and Christen laughed even as she dug into her own meal enthusiastically.

“She wasn’t kidding about giving you extra,” Tobin said, gesturing over to her plate, which did feature an overly large side of fries next to her burger.

“I’m not complaining.”

“So,” Tobin said, popping her own fry into her mouth before continuing. “How’s life?”

“Good.”

Tobin shot her a look, and Christen shrugged. “What? That’s a pretty broad question. Deserves a broad answer.”

“I mean, having a kid. Running a store. You must be crazy busy.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Christen widened her eyes for effect. “Not nearly as much as I used to be, though. It’s easier now that Lucy’s older. And since we hired Mal a couple months ago. Before her, either Kelley or I always had to be at the store, so I didn’t have much free time at all.”

“You two co-own the store, you said?”

Christen nodded. “Yep.”

“How’d that happen?”

“Well, we were in the same sorority in college, and we’ve been close ever since. Kel was teaching high school English and was mad she couldn’t teach the kinds of books she wanted, because the school board was still pretty set on the standard dead white guys. One night she had the idea of a bookstore with book clubs, concentrating entirely on kids and teens. We got to talking and realized, maybe it could actually happen. Since I’d majored in business, I knew a lot about the behind the scenes stuff. And you know how I’ve always felt about books.” Tobin nodded, a small smile on her face. “So obviously I loved the idea. Took a long time to make it happen, but we did it.”

“That’s so awesome. I mean it, Chris. That’s incredible.”

“It is, really,” Christen said with a proud smile.

“So, are you two…” Tobin trailed off, popping a fry into her mouth.

“Are we what?”

Tobin shook her head. “Nah, never mind.”

Christen frowned. “Are we what?” she asked again.

Tobin reached over to grab the ketchup, shook it a couple times before squirting some onto her plate. “Are you just partners, or are you, like, _partners_?”

Christen blinked in confusion, then snorted out a laugh as Tobin’s implication sank in. “Ew, no! Good god, no. She’s like my sister. _Is_ my sister, in the Greek sense.” Christen hesitated, then decided to add a further comment. If she and Tobin were going to be friends, this was something major she needed to know Tobin would be okay with. “I am gay, though.”

Tobin dropped the fry she’d been about to dip in the ketchup, her eyes snapping back up to Christen’s. “Wait, really?” 

Christen nodded, waited for the inevitable question about Lucy, but it didn’t come. Instead, Tobin just stayed silent for a long moment, then said, “What a coincidence, I guess. Me, too.”

And everything clicked into place.

Christen had wondered, idly, a couple of times throughout the years.

There was the way Tobin dressed, for one, though that in itself obviously didn’t mean anything.

There was the fact she had barely dated at all in high school. Christen had a sudden flashback to sophomore year, when Tobin had gone out on her first date, how Christen had stayed by her phone, waiting for Tobin to call and tell her all about it. But when Tobin had called, she’d just sounded annoyed and talked about how the boy had shoved his tongue down her throat.

“Like, how do people enjoy this?” she’d asked. “It was like choking on a fish that tasted like three-day old pizza.”

Christen had laughed so hard she’d nearly cried.

But it wasn’t like Christen had never had her share of bad kisses. And Tobin had been insanely busy, even more so than Christen, between her extracurriculars that she somehow maintained outside of high school soccer and national youth team call-ups. So that didn’t necessarily mean anything either.

Lastly, there was the fact that Christen had never seen her with anyone who looked like he might be a boyfriend. Christen hadn’t kept up with her, not after Tobin had deleted her from Facebook, but she had scrolled through Tobin’s Instagram a few times, when she was up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep and feeling unreasonably nostalgic.

So even though the words were a surprise, they somehow weren’t a surprise at all.

“Guess we didn’t figure everything out in high school, did we?” Christen joked, more to have something to say than anything.

Tobin’s expression was unreadable for a moment, and then she pulled a long, dramatic face. “Not even close.”

Christen took a bite of her burger, chewed and swallowed before continuing, “So, you’ve heard about my work. Now, what about you? Tell me about being on the national team. Is it everything you always dreamed?”

Tobin’s face lit up. “Honestly? Yeah. I mean, it’s a lot of work and totally crazy, don’t get me wrong. But I still love it as much as I ever did.”

“It shows.”

“What do you mean?”

“The way you play.”

“You watch my games?”

“You’re not the only one who likes soccer, Tobs.” Christen let the nickname slip off her tongue intentionally, felt the way the sensation was foreign and familiar all at once.

Tobin just smiled at her for a second, then nodded. “Fair enough.”

“So, how’s not playing?”

Tobin puffed out her cheeks. “It sucks. It sucks so bad.”

“That has to be hard.”

“It is. I mean, my family visits a lot, which is awesome. That’s the reason I came back, y’know, to spend more time with them. But they only take up so much time. They all have their own lives, and I’m just…stuck in my apartment, and I get so _bored_. And I want to play. I miss it so much.”

Christen could imagine. The idea of Tobin without soccer…it was unthinkable. They just went together.

“Have you tried learning new hobbies?”

Tobin nodded. “Sort of. I’ve been doing more art. Bought way too many supplies that I won’t have any place to put when I go back home.”

“Oh! I totally forgot. I wanted to thank you for what you did.”

Tobin looked at her questioningly, and Christen continued. “The painting, for Lucy. She loved it. It’s hanging up in her room now.”

“Good.” Tobin grinned. “I’m glad. Juno was super excited about it. She was so specific about everything she wanted on there.”

“Well, I’m glad she had her aunt to help her. It looks really good. When did you get into art, anyway?”

“Oh,” Tobin rubbed the back of her neck. “A while ago. In college, actually. We had to have an art credit for graduation, and I totally loved it. It’s just kind of something I do now, a de-stress hobby.”

“Well, I’m glad you grew to love it, and I’m glad Juno has someone to do artsy stuff with. Lucy’s totally stuck there. I think she can draw better stick people than I can.”

Tobin laughed. “You should try. It just takes practice. And it’s crazy how much more fun art is when it’s not just Mr. Jackson making us draw a bowl of fruit, like, twenty times.”

“ _God,_ that class.” Christen rolled her eyes. “The worst. Though I do think that was when I perfected the art of the no-look text.”

“See, _that_ was such a cool skill. Kids today with their smartphones. Don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

Christen chuckled, then took a couple bites before she inquired further. “So, what else are you doing to keep busy? Besides art, I mean.”

“Y’know. This and that. Video games. Reading a little. Workouts, as much as I can. I’ve been trying to learn chess, but Juno won’t play me because she says it’s a boring old person game.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I’m just saying, that sounds familiar…”

“Hey, I never said that!”

“You implied it very heavily.”

“I just wasn’t old enough to appreciate it when you tried to teach me. I’ve matured since then.”

“Glad to hear it.” An idea occurred to Christen, and she blurted it out before she could second guess herself. “If you ever want a chess partner, I’d be happy to join you.”

Tobin’s brows lifted slightly, and Christen couldn’t blame her for being surpised. A lunch was one thing, a one-off deal so they could clear the air and begin to move forward. Volunteering to spend time with Tobin after the way she’d acted was another.

But…this new peace between them was nice, and Tobin seemed like she could use a friend. Christen’s chest ached at the thought of Tobin with all her boundless energy, being cooped up in a lonely apartment. Besides, it would be nice to brush up on her chess skills. It had been too long since she’d played.

Christen nodded. “Yeah, really. I mean, if you want.”

“Are you kidding? I’d love that!” Tobin blushed, and her tone was quieter when she continued, “Sorry, I just get so bored. I’m dying.”

“I can imagine.” Christen thought about her schedule for the next few days, then asked, “Would Wednesday work?”

“I don’t know, I’ll have to check my schedule,” Tobin said jokingly. 

“I’d have to bring Lucy,” Christen warned.

“Of course! She’s welcome anytime.”

Christen’s heart warmed as she saw the honesty in Tobin’s eyes, the fact that she clearly meant the words and wasn’t just saying them to be polite.

One of the many difficult things about being a single parent was that it was complicated to hang out with her friends who didn’t also have kids. She either had to find a babysitter or bring Lucy along and pretend she didn’t see the annoyance her presence sometimes yielded. But Tobin didn’t seem bothered at all.

“We can plan on Wednesday, then?” Christen asked.

“Absolutely. Just let me know what kind of dinner to order. Unless you want PB&J, which is pretty much the extent of what I’m making for myself right now.”

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m kidding.” Tobin paused. “Mostly.”

Christen rolled her eyes, which came to rest on the large analog clock hanging near the door to the kitchens. She gasped a little at the time, then grabbed her phone, looking down at the screen to confirm it. “Shit. I need to go pick up Lucy, like, now.”

“Go ahead. I got it.”

“Here, just let me leave you some cash,” Christen said, quickly rifling through her purse for her wallet.

“Chris.” Christen looked up and met Tobin’s gaze, which was serious once again. “Let me get it.”

Christen nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Christen started to slide out of the booth, paused at the edge of the seat, took a breath. “It was good to talk to you,” she said honestly.

“You, too,” Tobin said, her eyes full of something Christen couldn’t quite place.

Christen stood, sliding her purse over her shoulder. “We’ll see you Wednesday, then?”

“Yup. I’ll be prepared to have my ass beaten at chess.”

Christen laughed. “Don’t know about that. It’s been a long time.”

“Still. I barely know my knights from my bishops. You’ll definitely have a leg up.”

“Guess we’ll find out. See you later.”

Tobin just nodded, and Christen hurried out to the car to go pick up Lucy.

Christen drove away with the air conditioning running on full blast, head full of Tobin, trying to remember where on earth she might find her old chess books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue to be blown away by all your kind words. Thank you so much! Please let me know what you thought of this chapter in the comments below. ♥


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which my former chess club nerd jumps out

Wednesday morning, Tobin sat in her spare bedroom staring at a canvas, which seemed to stare back, taunting her with its blank, bare surface.

An urgent burst of creativity had propelled her out of bed barely after sunrise, but she couldn’t seem to produce anything from it. The inspiration was a wild force, the opposite of hunger, not a longing to be filled, but a longing for release, and it clawed at the insides of her skin, searching for a way out. Tobin was the catalyst, the element that allowed for metamorphosis from a young, feral thing to its final stage as art on a canvas, emotion conveyed in visible form.

But she was broken.

Tobin knew the best approach would be to walk away, make some coffee, take a shower, and come back. She knew, both from experience and from endless sources of advice, that you couldn’t force these things. Not if you wanted to end up with something decent.

But Tobin was nothing if not stubborn.

This certainly wasn’t the first time she’d ever dealt with creative block. It took many different forms. Sometimes she seemed to have no inspiration, like she was a mountain stream dried up in the summer, waiting for the winter snows to arrive and fuel her once more. Sometimes she was in a mood that was too critical, too self-doubting, and everything she produced seemed inferior to the point of being horrible. She would start project after project, only to paint over them or throw them in the trash, could spend an entire day in her studio apartment back home and have absolutely nothing to show for it. Sometimes it was like the inspiration was speaking in a secret language. It was _there_ , but she didn’t know the words to understand exactly what colors and brushes and strokes it required in order to be unleashed. 

Today was one of those times.

Tobin switched out her brush for one slightly smaller, but unhappy with the weight of it in her hand, she switched back to the first brush yet again.

It was more than she’d done in the past five minutes, just sitting here, looking. Doing her best to ignore all thoughts and distractions, imagining if she could just focus hard enough, she’d be able to understand what the inspiration wanted from her, what she needed to begin the metamorphosis.

But maybe that was her mistake. She was trying to force her mind to go where she wanted. Maybe if she simply let it wander, her thoughts would reveal what she was missing. So Tobin leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and set her mind adrift…only for it to land exactly where she could have predicted.

Christen.

The name brought with it a mix of emotions, as always, but it was an unfamiliar brew, something different than what she’d grown accustomed to over the years.

Since their conversation yesterday, something had changed.

It had gone better than she’d ever imagined, her apology. Tobin had felt like she was nearly choking on the words, after years of composing dozens of variations in her head, sure she’d never have the courage to say them aloud. But she’d managed it. And Christen hadn’t thrown the apology in her face, which was more than she deserved. She seemed to want to move forward, just as Tobin did.

But there was still one line, one thing Christen had said that reached out and threatened to knock the breath from her lungs.

_…you really hurt me, and nothing you can say will change that._

It wasn’t like Tobin hadn’t known. That’s why she had apologized, after all. 

But the confirmation, the way Christen had said the words so simply, even as the mild tone of her voice had been belied by the flash of pain deep in her eyes.

In that split second, Tobin’s heart had cracked in two.

And that-

That was it.

That was the moment she needed to paint.

Like magic, Tobin felt the inspiration break free of its cage in her chest and spiral out through the rest of her body, until she was awash with it from head to toe. She was reaching for her paints almost without conscious thought, greens and greys and blues and golds.

She wasn’t going to paint Christen’s eyes themselves, just…just the idea, just the colors, the wave of emotions. The calm surface of the grey-green, the turbulence hiding beneath, poking out for a single second.

That was what she needed to capture.

The first stroke of brush against canvas sent a shiver of _rightness_ up her arm, and she followed it with another and another.

Tobin lost herself in the act of painting. Her entire world was a wild haze, emotions and colors swirling together until one was indistinguishable from the other. She was adrift in a sea of mossy green and steel grey and pale cyan as she mixed and blended and painted like a woman possessed. Minutes didn’t exist, not here in her world of colors. Time was a different concept, measured only in strokes of a brush, in inches of canvas covered.

Tobin painted as the sun slowly rose higher in the sky, until it was no longer shining through the east-facing window, as it had been. She painted through hunger pangs, through a shoulder aching from the awkward angle of painting while sitting down. 

She painted until she was nearly satisfied, the piece just shy of perfect, awaiting only the last little details. 

Tobin twisted around to find the hunter green, just for a touch to add to her mix, and she nearly dropped her brush when she saw her mother standing in the doorway.

“Fu-“ she exclaimed, barely managing to swallow down the last two letters.

Cindy raised her eyebrows, looking amused. “What was that?”

Tobin pulled her lips between her teeth, then sent her mom a sheepish grin. “Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said with a satisfied nod, leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded.

“To be fair, you scared me! Why didn’t you knock?”

“I did.”

“Wait, really?”

Cindy nodded, shooting her an unimpressed look. “Three times. When you didn’t answer, I used the spare key you gave me. I was afraid you’d fallen and hurt yourself.”

“Dramatic, much?”

“What? I’m worried about my daughter. So, sue me.”

“Nah, I’ve already got one lawsuit in the works. That’s enough for me.”

“How’s that going?”

Tobin shrugged, shooting her eyes toward heaven as if it might give her an answer. “Who knows?” She rolled her shoulders, then rotated her head from side to side, working out the kinks that had developed after painting for so long.

“Would you mind if I…“ Cindy trailed off, looking toward the easel.

Tobin hesitated for a split second, hating the idea of someone seeing a work before it was finished. But it was also just her mom, who would exclaim over a couple of stick figures. “Yeah, go ahead. It’s not done, though.” She couldn’t help tacking on the disclaimer, yielding that far to her protective instincts.

It was strange, being an artist. 

She laid her entire heart out onto the pitch for the world to see every time she stepped out to play a soccer game, but art was different. Each piece she painted held a tiny bit of her soul, and sharing them meant exposing those tender, fragile, pieces of herself, a vulnerability Tobin wasn’t sure she would ever grow accustomed to.

“Wow,” Cindy gasped, once she had rounded to the other side of the easel. “Those colors are beautiful.”

The words were exactly what she’d expected, and Tobin said nothing in return, held herself back from insisting once again that it wasn’t finished, that there wasn’t quite enough depth to the maelstrom of color, that there needed to be just a bit more darkness, but a bit more light, too.

Instead, she tapped her fingers against her thigh as Cindy continued staring, finally breaking away to look at her. She had tears in her eyes, which Tobin hadn’t expected, and her hand stilled against her leg as confusion rolled through her.

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

Tobin swallowed against the emotion rising in her throat, and her hand came up to rub against the back of her neck. “It’s just some paint,” she muttered.

“No. Not just this, though it is beautiful, and I’m sure it’ll be even better when it’s done. I mean…everything. The life you’ve made for yourself. The way you give your all to your teammates. How well you’ve handled this injury.”

Tobin scoffed, but Cindy shook her head. “No, I’m serious. You haven’t let it beat you. You never do. But I’m so happy you took this chance to come home. I’ve missed you so much,” she said, and the tears finally overflowed, spilling over to track down her cheeks.

“I’ve missed you, too, Ma,” Tobin choked out, her voice rough.

“I know things can get a little awkward when you visit.” Cindy paused, and Tobin gazed at her in surprise. Her mom tended to smooth over things, and this was the first time she had acknowledged the odd dynamic of Tobin’s visits. “This couldn’t have been an easy decision. But I’m glad you made it. Do you realize this is the first time I’ve actually seen something you’ve painted?”

Tobin paused, realizing it was true, though she had never thought of it before. “Huh.”

Cindy nodded. “You’ve mentioned it. And you’ve shown us your supplies before. But you’ve never shown us a finished product.”

“I, um. I have some pictures on my phone, I think?”

“If you wouldn’t mind?” Cindy said with a hopeful smile.

“Sure. Hold on.”

Tobin lowered her chair and hopped over to grab her phone off the bed. She unlocked it to find a text from Alex from twenty minutes before, which she hadn’t heard at all.

She really had been in the zone.

**Alex (9:52 AM): So I’ve been thinking…we have a free stretch coming up. What would you say to some company around Labor Day?**

A smile popped up on Tobin’s face as she read the message, her fingers jumping to type out a response.

**Tobin (10:14 AM): i’d say HELL YEAH**

“Good news?”

Tobin looked up as she remembered her mom still standing there. “Uh, yeah. Alex is going to visit for Labor Day.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. I’ve always wanted to meet her.”

“If you make her your vegetarian lasagna, she’ll probably hire you as her new best friend.”

Cindy chuckled. “I’ll make sure to do that.”

Tobin scrolled through her gallery, searching for shots of her art, and her heart gave a pang at the photos she had to scroll past. There weren’t many, as she was usually the last to reach for her phone when she was spending time with friends, but she had a few. One of her and Alex, the last time they’d gone hiking together before the World Cup, when they’d tried to capture a selfie with the sun setting in the background. That one was familiar, since it was also her lockscreen. There was a whole burst of shots of varying quality from a team party at the beginning of the year, photos Tobin hadn’t even realized were on here. She vaguely remembered Sonny borrowing her phone, promising to get her some “good content.” She’d taken a truly startling amount. Some selfies, a few of Tobin herself and various other teammates, and a surprising number of Lindsey. 

But just past the party, she found a few pictures of her work in various stages of completion. She found three good shots of completed works and turned the screen so her mom could see, swiping through them while Cindy exclaimed over each with appropriate motherly pride.

“You’re good.”

Tobin shrugged. “It’s just a hobby.”

Cindy shot her a look. “Hobby or not, you’re good.”

“Thanks,” Tobin said, knowing she wouldn’t stop until Tobin accepted the compliment.

“Have you eaten breakfast yet?”

Tobin bit her lip. She hated her mom treating her like a baby, knew that if she admitted she hadn’t, Cindy would insist on digging through her fridge and making her a proper breakfast.

But the words also made her suddenly aware of her hunger, the way her stomach felt as though she hadn’t eaten in days.

“Um, no not yet, but you don’t need to-“

“How about some bacon and eggs?” Cindy said, already moving toward the kitchen, as though Tobin hadn’t even uttered the last words.

Tobin shook her head at herself. She should have known better than to even try.

She thought of staying in the room, trying to finish the painting while breakfast cooked, but she knew it would take longer than that. Besides, it would do her good to look away from it for a few minutes, to come back with rested eyes and a fresh perspective before she put on the finishing touches.

So instead, Tobin made sure her the lids to all her paints were snapped shut and placed her brush in the paint-stained ceramic mug filled with water so it wouldn’t dry out. Then she found her crutches and followed her mom to the kitchen.

“So I heard you and Christen have made up after all this time,” Cindy said, facing the refrigerator as she pulled out the eggs and turkey bacon.

Tobin huffed out a soft laugh, hoisting herself up onto one of the stools next to the breakfast bar. “Man, MJ works fast, huh?”

“So, is it true?”

Tobin sighed, suddenly wishing they could go back to talking about painting. “It’s true we had lunch at Molly’s yesterday, yes.”

Cindy bent down to grab a large frying pan from the few supplies in the cabinet, then the stove clicked a few times as she turned on the burner. Tobin watched as the flames lit up, felt that same heat rising in her cheeks, and she shifted in her seat as she tried to find the words to discuss a subject she never talked about aloud.

“I’m just glad you’re talking again. You were always such good friends.”

“That was a long time ago, Ma.”

“Still, it broke my heart when you two got into that fight.”

“It wasn’t-“ Tobin broke off, and Cindy looked over her shoulder at her curiously.

“Wasn’t what?”

“Wasn’t a fight,” Tobin answered in a quiet voice.

Cindy didn’t respond for a moment. She cracked two eggs into the pan, one after another, followed by two slices of turkey bacon on the other side. The pan sizzled, and Tobin’s stomach gave an impatient twinge.

“Then what was it?” Cindy asked, turning and leaning back against the counter so she could face Tobin.

And maybe they’d had a moment earlier, but that certainly didn’t mean Tobin was ready to spill all her secrets over the breakfast table.

She gave a one-shouldered shrug, hoping it came off as sufficiently casual. “It was nothing. People grow apart.”

Cindy narrowed her eyes. “Tobin. Baby. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I won’t pry. But don’t for a second mistake me for an idiot.”

With that, she spun back to the bacon and eggs, and Tobin stayed silent, was grateful for the reprieve.

“Whatever happened, I’m glad you two are friends again.”

“Me, too,” Tobin said, softly. And she thought of the painting, of the hurt, but she also thought of Christen’s smile. The way she’d seemed to genuinely want to move forward, had even volunteered to come over and play chess.

Tobin was excited for chess, but she was also more than a little nervous. Part of her wondered if Christen might rethink her offer, might decide that Tobin wasn’t worth a second chance. Or maybe that she _would_ come, and they would find that they didn’t have anything in common anymore and the whole thing would be terribly awkward.

She hoped otherwise, but regardless of how well the night went, one thing was absolutely imperative: Tobin couldn’t let herself fall for Christen again.

Christen was still so beautiful she could make angels weep. She was still unbelievably kind. She still had the biggest heart Tobin had ever known.

Factor in the nostalgia, the way she couldn’t see Christen without the ghosts of old feelings rising to the surface…it would be entirely too easy to let those ghosts take shape and become corporeal again, to grow claws and hook themselves deeper into her heart than ever before.

But Tobin wouldn’t let them.

She knew the danger this time.

She would be leaving soon. Even if by some insane stretch of the imagination, Christen fell for her, too, Christen’s life was here, with her daughter and her store. Tobin’s was literally thousands of miles away, nearly as far as you could get while staying within the continental United States. 

They would be doomed from the start.

And Tobin knew what it took to get over Christen. She had already managed it once in her life, and it was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

She didn’t know how long it would take to do it again. 

As much as she evaded her mom’s prodding about settling down, she did think about it sometimes. Since she’d turned thirty, she couldn’t help thinking of it now and again. That it would be nice, to have someone to come home to, to have a supportive smile and arms that could hold her after a hard game or a long practice. Someone she could surprise with paintings just to brighten her day. And, eventually, someone to raise a child or two with, as terrifying as the thought was. 

But Tobin wouldn’t be able to do any of that if she made a wreck of herself over Christen again.

So she simply wouldn’t let it happen. Tobin wasn’t a teenager anymore, overwhelmed and desperate, drowning in a sea of feelings she’d let in without meaning to. She knew her own heart, and she recognized the danger of the situation. She was walking in with her eyes open and her guard up.

The possibility of friendship with Christen was something she had never even allowed herself to contemplate over the years, and now it was being offered to her. She wouldn’t let the opportunity pass by without grabbing at it and holding on with every bit of her strength. She would take that friendship, grow it, cherish it, do everything within her power to heal the scars from the time she had thrown it away.

  


##

  


Tobin opened her front door on Wednesday night to find Christen and Lucy on the other side of it.

She breathed through the wisps of feelings that threatened to wind around her lungs and focused on the fact that soon, seeing Christen would be just like seeing Alex or Lindsey.

Soon. She was working on it.

“Hey, guys. Come on in.” She hopped back and propped the door open, swinging her crutch to the side so it wasn’t blocking their entry. 

“Hey, Binny,” Lucy greeted with a wide grin as she passed.

“Lucy. Manners.” Christen looked down at her daughter with her eyebrows raised.

“It’s fine,” Tobin interrupted, waving a hand and addressing Christen before Lucy could speak. “‘Miss Tobin’ makes me feel like some old lady who…I don’t know, bakes scones all the time and owns seven cats.”

Lucy laughed, and Christen gave a hesitant smile. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“It’s what Juno calls me. Only makes sense for Lucy to, too.”

“Up to you,” Christen said, looking around the living room. It was sparse, no knick-knacks or picture frames hanging on the cream-colored walls, though there were a couple of paintings. The floral watercolors weren’t exactly what Tobin would have chosen, but they were pretty enough. “Nice place.”

“Thanks. It came pre-furnished. Didn’t really think it would make sense for me to decorate a whole new place just for three months.”

Tobin could sense Christen’s discomfort in the way she smoothed her hair back, how she kept investigating her surroundings instead of meeting Tobin’s eyes.

Tobin didn’t know why, but she hoped it simply meant Christen was nervous and unsure, too, not quite certain how to proceed down this path of friendship. They obviously couldn’t start up again where they left off, so where did that leave them? Did they start at the beginning? Somewhere in the middle made more sense, but where? How much had her actions and the passage of time cost them?

Tobin blamed the countless games of Candy Land she’d played with Juno over the past month for the fact that she was now visualizing their friendship on a colorful game board, a road from a plum tree forest to a castle made of sweets. A part of Tobin longed to draw the best card, to jump ahead to Queen Frostine, to bypass the part with hesitance and awkwardness entirely. But this was real, and there were no shortcuts. All there was to do was take it one step at a time.

Christen continued looking around, saying nothing, and Tobin turned to Lucy, who she just now noticed was holding two books.

The sight made her smile. Like mother, like daughter.

“Planning on reading both of those at the same time?” Tobin asked, and Lucy looked at her with a frown, unimpressed by her lame joke.

“I’m almost done with this one,” she said, tapping the one on top, “so I had to bring a backup.”

“Ahh. Very smart. What are you reading?”

“ _Princess in Black_. Next is _Upside-Down Magic_.”

“Ooh, that sounds like fun.”

“It is!” Lucy’s expression transformed immediately into an excited smile. “Mama and I already read it, but I’m reading it again, ‘cause it’s so funny.”

“Hey, look, you’ve got a tooth again!” Tobin exclaimed, noting that the tooth Lucy had lost a couple weeks before had been replaced by another, larger and slightly crooked.

“I already have another one loose! Wanna see?”

“Sure.”

Tobin watched as Lucy pinched one of her incisors between two fingers and attempted to wiggle it back and forth. Tobin didn’t see any movement from the tooth itself, but she made an impressed face anyway. “Wow.”

“I keep telling her if she keeps losing them so quickly, she’s going to wind up needing dentures,” Christen joked lightly, and Lucy rolled her eyes.

“Everybody knows that’s not what happens,” Lucy said in a tone that meant she’d probably said it ten times before. Then her face transformed with amusement, and she tucked her lips over her teeth. “Though it would be funny to talk like this all the time.” The words were muffled by the way she was holding her mouth, and Tobin laughed.

“You know what’s fun to eat when you’re missing teeth?” Tobin asked.

“What?”

“Spaghetti. You can just slurp it right up through the hole.”

Lucy looked absolutely delighted at the idea, and Christen shot her a look that seemed to be partially amused, partially disgusted.

“ _Or_ , we could refrain from slurping any foods at the dinner table.”

“Right.” Tobin nodded with a wink at Lucy. “Lunch table only. Got it.”

Lucy giggled, and Christen rolled her eyes even as she smiled.

“Remind me to never let you babysit again. This where we’re playing?” she asked Tobin, pointing to the chess board sitting on the breakfast bar, the pieces lined up next to it.

“Yep.”

“You going to read or watch us play, Luce?” Christen asked, turning toward her daughter.

Lucy bit her lip. “Um…”

“What?”

“Actually…” She turned toward Tobin. “Can I play on the PS4, please?”

“Do you even know how?” Christen asked, a wrinkle between her eyes.

Lucy looked back at her mom with an offended frown. “I’m almost eight years old.”

Tobin snorted, then tried to cover by giving a couple of weak coughs.

Going by Christen’s raised eyebrow, she was unimpressed by Tobin’s attempt at disguising her amusement.

“You can totally play, as long as it’s okay with your mom.”

“Depends. What were you going to play?” Christen asked.

“Jurassic World?” Lucy said with a hopeful grin, widening her eyes and looking so precious that Tobin might have given her a World Cup trophy if she’d asked.

Christen looked to Tobin for clarification, probably worried that a game about killer dinosaurs might be a bit much. “It’s the LEGO version. I bought it for Juno,” Tobin clarified.

“Oh,” Christen said with a small nod. “Yeah, baby, that’s fine. Go ahead.”

“I’ll get it set up for you,” Tobin said, maneuvering over to the couch for the remote collection and pressing all the right buttons.

Soon enough, Lucy was set up with her video game and Christen was perched on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, quietly putting all the chess pieces in place. Tobin carefully leaned her crutches against the wall, then leveraged herself up into the chair on the opposite side of the bar.

“So _that’s_ why she was excited to come over,” Christen mused in a low voice, shooting a glance at Lucy.

“What, you don’t think it was my charming company? I’m hurt.”

Christen snorted delicately, placing the final pawn down on the board. She’d set Tobin’s side with the white pieces, giving her the advantage of starting the game. “Hardly. Okay, so, let’s get down to business. How many games have you played so far?”

“Just a couple, against my phone. I’m not good enough to play real people yet.”

Christen sent her a quizzical look, tilting her head slightly to the side. “And what am I, exactly?”

“You’re different. You’re my chess Yoda. You’ll teach me to be good enough to play against people.”

“Teach, I can,” Christen said in a distorted voice that sounded something akin to if Yoda had a younger, squeakier cousin.

“Hopefully you’re better at chess than you are at impressions.”

Christen huffed out a small laugh. “Probably? It’s been a long time, though.”

“Well, I’m still pretty lost, so you’re way ahead of me. Like, I know how the pieces move, but anything more than that…I bought this book, but it’s like the second I see the word ‘gambit,’ my eyes glaze over.”

“Think of it…“ Christen trailed off as she looked at the board for a long moment, and then her face lit up with a wave of inspiration. “Think of it like a soccer game. There are lots of ways to play, some more offensive and some more defensive. Once you get a little more used to the rules, you’ll start being able to figure out what kind of strategy the other person uses. Then you shift your approach accordingly.”

Tobin blinked slowly. “That seems logical, I guess.”

“Start by setting up good defense,” Christen said, bringing a hand up to touch the top of her king. “Make sure your king stays protected, always holding back at least one powerful piece to be your keeper. Your pawns are going to make up your back line and some of your midfield, too. They’re good at being the bodies in the way, and they keep the opponent from getting too close to goal. Think of your knights as mids.” 

Tobin watched as Christen grew more animated, her hands waving as she got into her explanation.

“They’re often underrated because they don’t _seem_ as exciting as other pieces, but they’re hard to predict, and they can be lethal if you know what you’re doing. Then there’s the forwards. These can be rooks or bishops, depending on your style, but think of the queen as your #9. She’s a powerful force, _but_ your opponent is always going to be on the lookout for her. So she’ll almost always fail if you send her out alone. You have to have other pieces there with her, coordinating, playing off each other. And the most important thing you have to remember never to focus on one end of the field. Don’t get so caught up in defending that you don’t take the opportunity to attack when it arises. But on the other hand, don’t get so focused on attacking that you forget that the other side is working toward a goal, too.”

Christen looked up from the board, having concluded her speech, blinked shyly when she found Tobin staring at her.

“You just made this game make more sense than literally anything I’ve read so far.”

Christen brushed her hair away from her shoulders, then pushed it back, twisted it a couple times and let it fall. She was wearing it down tonight, naturally curly and a little wild, and Tobin had to swallow against the way it made her throat tighten, just a bit.

Nostalgia. Ghost feelings. That was all it was. She’d get over it after a couple more meetings.

“Know your audience, right?” Christen said with a half smile pulling up the right side of her lips.

“True. Why isn’t there a book called _Chess for Soccer Players_?”

“Probably because the metaphor breaks down if you take it too far.”

“Well, it makes sense to me.”

“I’m glad. Have any more questions before we get started?” Christen asked.

“Don’t think so.” Tobin narrowed her eyes. “You’re not going to let me win, right?”

Christen scoffed. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“Good point.”

Christen did not let Tobin win.

She very emphatically did not let Tobin win.

Despite the fact that Christen insisted she hadn’t played in years and wasn’t nearly at the top of her game, the result was an absolute slaughter.

In the first game, she cut a swathe through Tobin’s pieces. Half the moves she made resulted in captures, and by the time the game was over, there were more white pieces beside the board than on it.

The second time, Christen went for a subtle approach that was less dramatic but no less effective. She swooped in like a trained assassin, cutting into Tobin’s back line in a completely unexpected way that Tobin couldn’t counter, and the game ended in fifteen minutes flat.

Christen didn’t cut her any breaks, and Tobin didn’t ask for any. They played by the rules. If Tobin touched a piece, she had to move it. Once her fingers were removed, the move was final, even if she saw a split second later that she’d left her queen unguarded. Without a hint of hesitation, Christen had swooped in with her bishop and captured her queen ruthlessly, as Tobin dramatically buried her face in her hands. 

They talked very little, always concentrating on their moves, and Christen didn’t give her any hints or tips until after each game was finished.

“The main thing is,” she explained after the second game, “you’re in too much of a hurry. You can’t rush chess. Every move should serve a purpose. Eventually, you’ll start thinking at least three moves ahead. But for now, start with one. Don’t just think about what you want to do. Think about what you think I’ll do in response. For instance…” 

Christen grabbed a couple of pieces off the board, rearranged them quickly. “Give me a knight.”

Tobin handed over one of the horse-shaped pieces. “Here.”

Christen took the piece and set it down. “You could put your knight here, unprotected. Now, what do you think I’ll do?”

Tobin examined the board for a few seconds. “Take it with your rook?”

“Exactly. That’s step one. So if this was an actual game, you wouldn’t have moved there, or you would have used another piece to protect it. Now, step two is to think about how you can use my movements against me. To me, this looks like an accident, a stupid move. So I do the obvious thing and go for it.” Christen moved her rook to capture the knight, and Tobin watched, enthralled. “But what I _haven’t_ accounted for is that even though I’ve captured a piece and my rook is safe, I’ve left my defenses open for you to swoop in here and put me in check. Then, boom, two moves later, you’ve won.”

Tobin stayed silent as Christen moved the pieces swiftly through the simulated game, ending with the black king in checkmate.

“Like I said, you aren’t going to be thinking this far ahead for a little while. But eventually, you can start learning how to use my reactions against me, like that.” She gestured to the board, and Tobin nodded in understanding.

“You really are a good teacher, you know.”

Christen ducked her head and kept her gaze on the board as she answered, “Thanks.”

A long beat passed, and Tobin tapped her bare toes silently against the bottom rung on the stool. They didn’t have time for another game before the food arrived, but she wasn’t sure what to discuss without it. If it had been Lauren or Amy, one of her other friends from the Hornets, she would have brought up old memories. Epic last-minute goals or team sleepovers gone awry or the time the two of them were busted for sneaking out of the hotel during the state championship.

With others, that would be safe terrain.

With Christen, it could be a mine field.

So instead, she stuck to the topic at hand, even though the pause had now lasted long enough that it was no longer natural to continue.

“I’m pretty bad, though, so maybe I’m just easily impressed,” Tobin said in a self-deprecating tone, hoping that humor would help pass over the awkward moment.

“You are rather pitiful.”

“Wow, that was unnecessary-“ Tobin’s response was cut off by the doorbell, most likely their food.

“Let me get it,” Christen said, hopping up before Tobin could.

“No, wait-“ 

“Just stay,” Christen said in what Tobin assumed was her mom voice, firm and just a touch exasperated, and Tobin sat meekly back in her chair.

Christen disappeared around the corner, and Tobin marveled yet again at the fact that Christen was speaking to her at all. She must have said “thank you” in her prayers a dozen times since Sunday, but she couldn’t help one more, casting a silent prayer up into the sky.

 _Thank you._ she thought, closing her eyes briefly. _Now, if you could help me figure out what to do next…_

  


##

  


Thursday morning, Christen was setting up the benches in the Narnia room for story time, having already selected the morning’s books and activities. She looked up in surprise when she heard the sounds of the front door being unlocked, then open and shut. A few moments later, Kelley’s head popped in through the wardrobe, and Christen let her jaw drop dramatically.

“It _is_ you. For a second, I thought we were being robbed.”

“Fuck off,” Kelley said mildly. “I do sometimes come in early, you know.”

Christen snorted. “Sure.”

“Well, I do when I want to catch my best friend alone and listen to her talk about how insane she is.”

Christen adopted a bland tone as she replied, “Gee, thanks, Kel, I love talking to you, too.”

“So, how was it?” Kelley asked, taking a sip of her takeout coffee.

“How was what?”

“Chess with your former nemesis turned new bestie?”

“She’s not-“ Christen sighed, dragging her last bench into position and then taking a seat on it. “Whatever. It was good, actually. Better than I expected.”

“I still…” Kelley trailed off, looking thoughtful.

“What?”

“I don’t get how you can forgive her.” Christen opened her mouth to respond, but Kelley held up a hand to cut her off. “I’m serious. I’m not just being dramatic or whatever. I just…I literally don’t get it. I know you’re, like, the nicest person in the world, but there’s a fucking line, you know?”

Christen nodded. “Yeah. There is.”

“So?”

Christen took a deep breath, climbing through the wardrobe back out in the front room as she collected her thoughts. Kelley followed, staying uncharacteristically silent for a long time until she asked, “You’re gonna act like nothing happened just because she apologized?”

“No.” Christen answered quickly. “Her apology didn’t fix everything, and I told her that. But that doesn’t mean we can’t move forward.”

“You don’t think you’re letting her off too easy?”

“What’s the alternative? Making both of our lives harder for no reason?” Christen walked up to a random shelf and started straightening the books, aligning spines and facing titles out when spacing allowed for it. She moved through the motions mechanically, having done so countless times over the past two years.

“I wouldn’t say _no_ reason.”

“It would be, though. What’s the point? I’m not trying to get even or get revenge. This isn’t high school.”

“But don’t you want to?”

“Not anymore.”

Christen could hear the disbelief in the scoff Kelley let out. “Seriously?”

“Things fade,” Christen said simply, turning and leaning her shoulder against the shelf as she met Kelley’s probing gaze. “If she’d shown up after six months? God, I don’t even know. I would have…slapped her across the face and broken down crying, and then I would have hugged her and begged her to not do that again.”

Kelley didn’t say anything, just watched with serious eyes as Christen continued.

“But it hasn’t been six months. It’s literally been over a decade. And you remember when I saw that therapist for a while in college? For my anxiety?”

Kelley nodded.

“I, uh, talked to her about stuff with Tobin, too. I’d been carrying it for a while by then, and she helped me see how unhealthy that was. It took time, but I worked through it. Now, when she showed up?” Christen paused, fighting the urge to turn back to the books just to have something to do with her hands while she talked. “It hurt. I know I never admitted it, but I wasn’t prepared for it to hurt as much as it did. Not when I’d worked through everything already, not when I’d barely thought of her in years. But that was only a natural response, y’know? It’s a lot better now. Now, things are still just…weird. Awkward. While we try to figure everything out.”

“But why try? Why seek her out instead of just living your separate lives and making small talk when you have to? It’s not like Juno is actually her kid. You wouldn’t have to see her that much.”

Christen turned back to the shelf as she tried to work out her words, tried to translate this feeling into something that made sense, something she could explain. “I can’t describe it very well, but being her friend…it feels right. It feels weird, but it feels right. Like the universe brought us back together for a reason, and maybe that reason is that she needs a friend while she deals with her injury and everything.”

“The universe?” Kelley asked, clearly unimpressed. “Really?”

“The way Lucy and Juno are so close? The way we kept running into each other accidentally?”

“Coincidences. Result of living in a really small town.”

Christen shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe. But universe or not, I like being friends with people more than I like fighting with them.”

“And that’s why you’re a better person than I am.”

Christen laughed softly, then smirked a little. “Though I’m not gonna lie, I really enjoyed kicking her ass at chess.”

“She drops you like a hot potato, and you put her in checkmate. Sounds like an even trade,” Kelley said, sarcasm heavy in her tone.

Christen rolled her eyes. “No, obviously. I’m just saying it was unexpectedly a little therapeutic.”

“Look at me.”

Christen rotated to find Kelley staring at her intently, and she met her gaze for several long seconds.

“Okay,” Kelley said, finally. “I believe you.”

“Good.”

“I’m glad, too. I just don’t like it when you’re hurting.” Kelley turned away, started straightening the books on the next bay over. “And for the record, I still don’t like her.”

“Funny you should say that.”

Kelley gave her a confused look. “Why?’

“She said something last night that reminded me of you.”

“Such as?”

“So, while we were eating, we got to talking about books and stories, and Lucy told her about how I sometimes make up my own.”

“Yeah?”

“And she said I should write a book.”

“So?”

Christen suddenly wished she hadn’t brought it up, feeling weirdly embarrassed. She finished with her current bay and moved around Kelley to begin straightening the next. “I don’t know. Now I just can’t seem to stop thinking about it.”

“I mean, not to be that person, but I’ve literally told you that like ten times. You’re the best storyteller I know.”

“I know. And it always sounded fun, but things were so crazy that the idea of actually doing it sounded absolutely insane.”

“But…?” Kelley prompted.

“But now, I don’t know. I have some time. And I don’t think Lucy had ever heard you mention it. She got all excited, talking about how her mom would be a famous author and people would want my autograph and she’d be able to have signed first editions of all my books.”

Kelley chuckled. “Seven years old and already collecting signed first editions?”

“I know. She’s the best.”

“She is. And so are you. You should do it!”

Christen chewed her lip. “I don’t know. I took creative writing in high school, but like, that’s it. I don’t know how to write a book.”

“God, if only there were ways to learn something you don’t know how to do…” Kelley trailed off, tapping a mocking finger against her chin.

“I _know_ , but you can’t look up talent. I have the ideas, sure, but just because I know how to do good voices doesn’t mean I’d be good at writing the story down in a way people would like to read.”

“But do you want to try?”

Christen waited a long moment before answering. “I would, yeah.”

“So, do it,” Kelley shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I could crash and burn.”

“Only if the publishers are stupid.”

“Publishers _are_ stupid.”

“Fair point,” Kelley conceded. “But you’re amazing, and I’m sure they’ll be able to see that.”

“You’re assuming I even get past the first step of writing it down.”

“I believe in you, Pressi,” Kelley said with a smile. “Now, I’m gonna go open the doors, because we’re three minutes late.”

Christen nodded distractedly, mulling over her own thoughts and coming to a decision.

Tonight, after Juno went to bed, she would try it.

It might not go anywhere, and she might have nothing to show for it but some notebook paper stuffed in the trash and forgotten tomorrow, but she would at least try.

Decision made, Christen smiled to herself, a nervous excitement swelling up in her stomach.

She was going to write a _book_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Books mentioned:  
>  _Princess in Black_ by Shannon Hale  
>  _Upside-Down Magic_ by Sarah Mlynowski, Lauren Myracle, and Emily Jenkins
> 
> Forgive me for not including more of Christen's POV, but the word count of this chapter was already out of hand. I'll make up for it next chapter, I promise. ;)


	6. Chapter 6

_Powder Springs High School Soccer Field, September, Sophomore Year_

Christen was too far away when it happened.

The score was tied 2-2 with six minutes left in regulation, and the Hornets won a corner kick, just the break they needed to pull ahead. Christen took it, adrenaline and exhaustion and determination all singing their perfect harmony in her veins as she backed up three steps, then sent in a beauty of an inward-curling ball that went straight to Lauren. The keeper blocked her shot, batting it away, and the ball went spiraling toward the far end of the goal, where Tobin was standing. It was the perfect setup, and Christen knew Tobin would dive for it, the header just short of being an absolute guarantee.

Until the defender jerked her arm back to avoid a handball, accidentally crashing her elbow directly into Tobin’s temple.

Christen didn’t remember making a noise as Tobin crumpled to the ground.

She didn’t remember running across the field.

She _did_ remember shoving people out of the way so she could kneel down at Tobin’s side. She wasn’t unconscious, but she had a hand clutched to the side of her head, and she wasn’t moving, two tears slipping slowly down her cheeks, one after the other. Christen murmured soothing words as she waited for the first aid team - two parent volunteers with a first aid kit - to arrive. It felt like hours before they did, though it was likely only ten seconds or so. Horror stories flashed through her brain, stories of blindness, of concussion complications, things she normally shrugged off.

It wasn’t like none of them ever got hurt. Christen herself had taken a nasty knock only a couple weeks before. But Tobin just had this air of invincibility; any time she got injured, it was like the universe had made a mistake. It simply wasn’t supposed to happen. She always looked like she knew it, too, annoyed or angry or frustrated, ready to channel all of that into the game.

She never stayed down like this.

Christen didn’t pray, didn’t believe in it, but Tobin did, and in that moment, she prayed to Tobin’s God that she wasn’t too badly hurt. 

Finally, the first aid team knelt down on Tobin’s other side, and when Christen looked up, she was relieved to find that one of them was Joy’s mom, who was actually a nurse. 

After a minute, Tobin was able to walk off, and the fact that she went without complaint made Christen sick to her stomach. She never willingly left the pitch. Never. 

They sent a sub out immediately, and Christen knew Coach Scurry was extremely strict about head injury safety, so it was likely only a precaution. But the knowledge did nothing to reassure her. Christen played the rest of the game more unfocused than she’d ever been in her entire life. She went through the motions, but a part of her attention was constantly on the sidelines, constantly listening for the sound of an ambulance.

By some miracle, ARod managed to take a sloppy pass from Christen and turn it into a goal, but the team’s celebration was subdued. 

All Christen felt when the final whistle blew was a wave of relief, and she rushed through shaking hands with two of the opponents closest to her, then hurried off the field toward where Tobin was sitting with an ice pack on her head, arguing with Coach Scurry while Joy’s mom looked on.

“I’m fine.”

“Tobin. You’re going to the hospital. Period.”

“Can’t I wait until my parents get here?”

“You heard them. It’ll be at least an hour.”

Christen expected Tobin to crack a smile, to say _You haven’t seen the way my dad drives_.

But she didn’t, and the sick feeling in Christen’s stomach intensified.

“I’m calling an ambulance,” Joy’s mom said, and Tobin protested just as Coach Scurry held up a hand.

Christen stepped in. “We can drive her.”

All three of them turned to look at her.

“My parents are here. We’ll take her.”

“Will you go with the Presses, Tobin?” Coach Scurry asked.

“Doesn’t sound like I have a choice,” Tobin grumbled.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Christen, could you grab your parents so I can talk to them, please?”

Somehow, it all worked out. Her parents called Tobin’s parents and talked with Coach Scurry, and they worked out a plan while Christen sat on the bench at Tobin’s side, holding her free hand, trying not to clutch too tightly.

“I’m fine, Chris,” Tobin said gently, and Christen met her eyes and swallowed, nodding.

“I know. They just have to make sure.”

“You just look worried.”

“Sorry,” Christen said with a tiny laugh, not at all amused, and she tried to do her best to keep a neutral expression.

An hour later, Christen was pacing back and forth in the waiting area of the emergency room, glad that Tobin’s parents had finally arrived minutes before, but hating them a little bit for the first time in her life when they were allowed to go back with Tobin when she had been forced to stay out here.

She wouldn’t leave. Not until she knew for sure Tobin was okay.

Her mind replayed the whole thing in a loop. Seeing Tobin fall to the ground. The tears streaking down her cheeks while she lay motionless on the ground. The pale sheen of her sweat-covered skin as she walked off.

Eventually, just for something to do, Christen went out to the car and dug through her equipment bag for a spare outfit. She found the bathroom and changed clothes, feeling marginally better after she washed her face and took a few deep breaths. But still, the worry wouldn’t stop gnawing away at her stomach.

She tried to tell herself it would be fine, that there was no reason to be paranoid, but she knew she wouldn’t fully believe it until she knew the truth.

Finally, Tobin emerged from the double doors, her parents following right behind her, stopping to finalize paperwork with the nurse at the desk. Christen was at her side immediately, her eyes scanning Tobin from head to toe.

“Are you okay?”

Tobin nodded her head gingerly, shooting her a grin. “Yep. Good to go.”

Her hair was loose, down around her shoulders, and she looked even worse than Christen had when she’d seen herself in the bathroom mirror. Christen hugged her anyway, pulled Tobin’s warm, lean body into her own, pressing her close. Tobin buried her head against Christen’s shoulder, letting out a long exhale.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Christen said, her voice choked with unexpected tears.

“You smell,” Tobin said, pulling back and wrinkling her nose, and Christen scoffed and shoved at her shoulder mildly.

“Yeah, okay, pot, kettle. You should’ve made them let you use a shower or something back there, god.”

Tobin laughed, small and tired, and the last vestiges of Christen’s worry floated away.

“So you’re really fine?”

“Yeah. They didn’t even want to keep me for observation. Now someone just has to babysit me and make sure I don’t, like, forget my name and stuff.”

“Good thing I’m already here, then.”

“You might have to fight my mom.”

“I can take her.”

Tobin laughed.

Christen went home with the Heaths after hugging her parents goodbye in the hospital waiting room, and two hours later, she was in Tobin’s bedroom, failing in her attempt at getting Tobin to sleep.

“You know what I could really go for?” Tobin asked from her position sprawled out on the bed, staring at the tiny combination television/DVD player on the other side of the room, which was halfway through _Bring It On_.

“What?” Christen asked, rolling onto her side and watching Tobin’s profile.

“Brownies.”

“Is ‘weird food cravings’ a symptom I’m supposed to be on the lookout for?”

Tobin frowned at her. “Uh, chocolate isn’t a weird craving. It’s, like, the most common craving there is. I crave chocolate every single day. It’s not like I want brownies with a side of relish or mayonnaise or something.”

Christen gagged. “Ew, why would you say that?”

“To make you make that face,” Tobin said, cheesing at her.

Christen just shot her a look.

“But seriously. I wonder if my mom has brownie mix in the kitchen…” Tobin rolled off the bed, standing, and Christen sat up.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s midnight.”

“And ‘midnight snack’ is a thing for a reason. I’m starving.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Don’t use big words right now. It’s not fair. It’s the middle of the night, and I have a serious brain injury.”

“It means-“

“I know what it means. I’ve seen _The Sound of Music_.”

Christen just laughed and shook her head and followed as Tobin tiptoed out of her room and down the hallway toward the kitchen.

They found a box of brownie mix in the cabinet, and Christen dug out a mixing bowl while Tobin gathered the other supplies. Ten minutes later, there were brownies in the oven, and they were sitting at the kitchen table, the large bowl between them, cleaning the rest of the batter from the bowl with spatulas.

“Do you really want to do this for the rest of your life?” Christen asked, quietly, after mulling over the question for several minutes.

“Do what? Eat brownies?”

Christen shook her head. “No. Play soccer.”

Tobin frowned, her spatula halfway to her mouth, looking at Christen like she’d suddenly grown two heads. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because…I mean, what happened tonight. It could’ve been so much worse.”

“Chris.” Tobin met her gaze, her eyes deep brown and strong, and Christen took comfort in the familiarity of them. “I’m fine. It wasn’t as bad as it seemed.”

“But it could have been. Don’t you ever worry about that?”

Tobin shrugged. “Lots of jobs have risks.”

“But-“ Christen didn’t have a chance to finish her protest, because the kitchen timer started beeping, cutting her off. Christen pressed the button to silence it as quickly as she could, and they both sat quietly, straining their ears to make sure no one had awakened and come to investigate.

After a few moments, Tobin grabbed the jar of chocolate frosting and stood.

They didn’t wait for the brownies to cool before attempting to frost them, which, it turned out, was quite important to a successful frosting process.

Christen didn’t care.

The kitchen was warm and quiet, and Tobin was safe and healthy and happy, and the brownies were a sloppy, gooey mess, but they were the most delicious brownies Christen had ever tasted.

“Girls?”

Christen was just about to take the last bite of her second brownie when she looked up to find Cindy standing inside the kitchen, a dressing gown wrapped around her pajamas, squinting at the light.

“What are you doing up?”

“Um…making brownies?” Tobin said, as innocently as possible.

Cindy peered around the kitchen, taking in the mixing bowl in the sink, the half-empty jar of frosting still sitting next to the pan of haphazardly cut brownies. “I can see that.”

“I’m sorry about the mess-“ Christen started, but Cindy held her hand up.

“I don’t mind. What I do mind is that _you’re_ supposed to be sleeping,” she said, sending Tobin a stern look.

Tobin nodded. “Sorry.”

“I’ll clean this up. You had a rough day. You need to go sleep”

“I can-“ Tobin protested, but she was cut off.

“Tobin Powell. Bed.” Her tone brooked no argument, and Tobin dropped her head in acquiescence.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tobin mumbled, and she pushed away from the counter, wiping her hands on a napkin already so smeared with chocolate, Christen didn’t know if it would do much good. She didn’t point out that Tobin had a smear of chocolate frosting at the corner of her mouth, just followed meekly as Tobin slunk out of the kitchen.

“And Christen?” Cindy called, just as Christen was about to pass through the doorway. She paused, turning back, and Cindy had a twinkle in her eye, a half smile on her face when she said, “Try not to let her out again until she’s slept.”

Christen laughed softly. “I’ll try my best.”

  


##

  


Tobin woke before her alarm, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning.

Except that instead of shiny presents with bows on top, the only thing that would be unwrapped today was her leg. It was going to be pale and smelly and hairy, and she couldn’t _wait_ to see it.

Tobin spent the time before her appointment eating breakfast and reading a chapter of _Graceling_ , the book Christen had recommended weeks before. When that didn’t kill enough time, she worked on her trick of balancing the soccer ball on her head while crossing the apartment on crutches, which she had finally perfected the week before, much to Juno’s surprise and amazement.

And today was the last day she would have to rely on it to amuse herself.

Well. As long as she passed that final x-ray exam with flying colors. Tobin had never been one for tests, but she was going to ace this one if she had to sit there and force her body to mend by sheer force of will. Because the thought of another week like this…it was enough to make her crazy. She was desperate to move, to do something to prove to herself that she was healing. That this really would all pass, and she could eventually get back to normal. That she wasn’t stuck in this limbo forever, waiting to return to a career that wasn’t affording her the same courtesy. The clock ticked ever steadily toward Tobin’s retirement, whether she could play or not.

She only had another few years left before it would be expected. Then would come the point when when retirement would be outright encouraged, if not forced upon her. It was such a foreign idea, Tobin didn’t know what she would do when the time came.

But until then, she was damned if she would spend any more time than necessary in this cast.

Finally, her mom arrived to be her chauffeur to the hospital, and Tobin spent the entire drive tapping her fingers on the armrest and whistling along with the radio.

She sat through the doctor’s questions, through the x-rays, through the excruciating wait for the result.

Then the doctor entered the room with a smile on her face, and Tobin fought the urge to leap to her feet and pump the air. Instead, she simply beamed back.

“Everything’s as it should be. Ready to get that thing off?”

“She’s about to chew it off herself,” Cindy said from the chair beside her, and Tobin laughed.

“She’s not wrong.”

“Well, the good news is that it’s coming off. Like we’ve discussed, you’ll have to wear a walking boot, of course. But it’s temporary. Keep working with your PT, and the next few weeks will fly by.”

“As long as I don’t have to use those things anymore, I’m good.”

The doctor chuckled. “You don’t. And you even get to take this one off to sleep and shower. Under absolutely no other circumstances, though,” she said with a straight face. “Once a day, no more than twenty minutes. If you have to shower again for some reason, cover the boot in a plastic bag and tie it off.”

“Got it.”

Then the doctor got to work with the saw, which caused the strangest buzzing sensation in her leg. She’d felt it before, of course, after her leg injury a couple years before, and the time when she broke her arm as a kid. She never got used to it, though.

And then, freedom.

She could see the small scars from the surgeon’s knife, just below her knee. They were faded, a pale pink, no longer the raw red as she had last seen them.

Soon, they would join the host of other injury badges she carried over the rest of her body.

They would be just another reminder, just another story she could tell from the locker room after a game or before a long day of practice.

When she was playing again.

Soon. It was so soon she could taste it. Just the boot, then regaining her strength, then she could take the pitch again, hear the roar of the crowd in the background as she watched the ball and connected with it and moved around the field with her team like a living, breathing unit. 

One day she would have that again.

One day.

She just had to keep moving forward.

  


##

  


That evening, Christen sat at the kitchen table, staring down at her phone, wondering what exactly she should text Tobin. 

Perry had her monthly book club tonight, so Christen had brought Lucy and Juno home from their first Girl Scouts meeting. They’d eaten an early dinner, and then Juno had decided that they should make something for Tobin, celebrating the fact that she’d finally gotten her cast off today.

Christen hadn’t had the heart to say no.

But now she had to make sure Tobin was home, since she wasn’t about to just leave the brownies on her doorstep.

She decided to leave out any explanation, opting for the simplest approach.

**Christen (6:26 PM): Are you at home?**

Christen automatically waited a few seconds to see if any answering dots would appear, though she knew it was unlikely, if the few texts they had exchanged so far were anything to go by.

She was right.

No dots appeared, so Christen set her phone down, once again picking up the pages she had printed off a few hours before. After a week spent writing down her story and then rewriting it based on her own second thoughts, as well as Lucy’s feedback, she was left with her first draft.

Initially, she had gone back and forth between simplifying the story for a picture book, or trying to draw it out long enough to fill a chapter book. Eventually, Christen had decided on the picture book approach. Not an early picture book, but one that a teacher could read in an elementary school classroom, with vivid pictures and a thrilling, compelling story that captured every child’s attention.

At least, that was what she hoped.

She planned to give the pages to Kelley in the morning, to give her second opinion - well, third, after Lucy’s - but she wanted to give them a final read-through first.

Just as Christen flipped to the second page, she was torn away by a loud splash, and she looked up just in time to see a wave of dishwater overflow from the sink and all down the front of Juno’s shirt.

Lucy was giggling, and Juno just shrugged and said, “Whoops,” before reaching into the dangerously high water to grab the next dish to wash.

Lucy rinsed and dried, and Christen just shook her head and went back to her pages, making notes of a couple things she wanted to change before she printed the final draft to give to Kelley.

Her phone vibrated loudly from the table, and Christen reached over for it, relieved when she saw Tobin’s answer on the notification screen.

**Tobin (6:43 PM): yeah what’s up?**

**Christen (6:43 PM): Nothing. :)**

This time, the dots appeared almost immediately.

**Tobin (6:44 PM): lol ok??**

Then, when Christen didn’t say anything further, she got another text.

**Tobin (6:46 PM): i don’t even get a hint?**

**Christen (6:47 PM): As long as you’re still home in about twenty minutes, you won’t need one.**

Christen smiled to herself as she imagined Tobin staring at the text, mystified and wondering what on earth Christen was planning.

It was, as it turned out, almost exactly the expression she made when she opened the door for them fifteen minutes later, after Christen had given Juno a fresh shirt to change into, and they had made the drive over to her apartment.

Tobin had a quizzical smile on her face, and it widened when Juno and Lucy yelled, “Surprise!” in tandem. One stood on each side of Christen, and they held their hands out like a pair of game show hosts, presenting the pan of brownies Christen held in her arms.

Tobin stepped forward, her new black walking boot making her gait slightly uneven, her hair damp and loose around her shoulders.

“We made you brownies!” Juno exclaimed.  
“Sweet!” Tobin replied, looking slightly confused. “But, uh, why? Not that I’m complaining.”

“Mommy said you got your cast off today. They’re gradulations brownies.”

“It was gonna be a cake, but Mama said you liked brownies better,” Lucy added.

Christen bit her lip, looking down at the pan under the guise of fiddling with the tinfoil on top. “It was Juno’s idea,” Christen clarified. “They made it all themselves. I just supervised.”

“Wow, really?” Tobin asked, looking back and forth from Juno to Lucy. “Are they good?”

“We don’t know, silly. We didn’t eat any,” Juno responded.

“Yeah, but was the batter good?” 

They both nodded.

“Then I’m sure they’ll be awesome,” Tobin said.

“Only one way to find out,” Christen said, and she stepped forward and handed the pan carefully to Tobin, their fingers brushing as she passed it over. Christen was oddly aware of the contact, struck by the realization that, other than when Christen had helped Tobin up after her fall in the store, this was the first time they’d touched since her return.

It used to be such a regular thing. Hugs, high fives, shoulder nudges, Tobin’s head in her lap on the sofa while they stayed up half the night watching movies, Christen’s fingers running through her hair.

But those were things of the past. 

Tobin stepped back, and Christen was pulled out of her revelry. “Come on in. The game’s just about to start.”

“Game?” 

“Thorns vs Spirit. It was supposed to start five minutes ago, so you’re just in time.”

“Oh, I don’t think we can-“

“You can’t make me eat these all by myself. My coach would kill me.”

Christen snorted. “Like that’s stopped you before.”

Tobin smirked, shrugging a single shoulder lazily. “True enough.”

“But I guess we can stay long enough to eat one, if you don’t mind,” Christen acquiesced.

“Yes!” Juno exclaimed, then marched into the apartment without further delay. Lucy followed her inside, leaving Tobin and Christen alone.

Christen looked back from where the girls had disappeared, over to Tobin. “Well, I guess we’re having brownies,” Christen said with a laugh.

“Guess so.”

With that, they followed after the girls into the apartment, finding that the game had, indeed, started.

The brownies were gone in minutes, but just as Christen was contemplating whether they should stay or leave, the Spirit scored an early goal, at which point Tobin exclaimed, “No way that counted! The ref is blind!”

The goal was disallowed almost as soon as the score had popped up on screen, which seemed to appease Tobin, though she still grumbled, and Christen had to try not to smile.

“Wait, Binny, why didn’t it count?” Juno asked, turning to Tobin, but Lucy answered first.

“Offsides.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s complicated,” Lucy said with a sigh. “Mostly, it means someone from the other team has to be closer to the goal than she is. Since there wasn’t one, it didn’t count.”

“Oh. Okay.”

With that, Juno shrugged and started watching the screen again.

“Smart kid,” Tobin said, keeping her voice low as she turned to Christen, looking impressed.

Christen shrugged. “We like soccer.”

“Apparently. How much do you watch?”

“We watch all the National Team games. And club games when we can.”

Tobin narrowed her eyes. “Which club?”

“Red Stars.”

“Well, clearly you should rethink that.”

“I dunno, I’m pretty loyal.”

“Well, at least it’s not the Courage.”

Christen pulled a face. “I have better taste than that.”

Tobin laughed, settling back into the cushions and crossing her legs, drawing Christen’s attention to her walking boot once more.

“Happy with your newfound freedom?” she asked.

“God, yes.”

“Set the crutches on fire yet?”

“Tried it. Turns out metal doesn’t burn that easily.”

“Who’d have thought?”

“I’m thinking Plan B is hiking Stone Mountain and throwing them off the side.”

“Maybe wait a few weeks for that one,” Christen said with a pointed glance at Tobin’s leg.

“Yeah, yeah. You sound like my doctor. And my PT. And my mom.”

“You should listen to us. We’re very smart.”

“That’s what I’m told. What about you? How’s your plan to be the next big author?”

“Well, I wrote it all down.”

“Really?” Tobin’s voice was surprised. “You’re actually gonna do it?”

The commentator’s voice grew louder, and Tobin’s head snapped back toward the screen. Alex Morgan was streaking down the field, the nearest defender yards away, and Tobin shouted, “Go, Alex! Go, go, go- YES!”

Carefully keeping herself onside, Alex hit a powerful ball into the upper left corner of the net, the keeper’s glove missing it by centimeters.

Tobin pumped a fist in the air, then clapped a few times. “That was beautiful! Where’s my phone? Have to text her about that one.” Tobin seemed to say this last bit mostly to herself as she cast her glance around the room, looking for the object, but it caught Lucy’s attention, and she peered curiously over at Tobin.

“Are you friends with Alex Morgan?”

“Yeah, we play together.”

“I _know_ that, but that doesn’t mean you’re friends. I’m not friends with everyone in my class.”

Christen frowned and started to break in, but Tobin just laughed easily. “True enough. I’m friend _ly_ with the whole team - like I’d guess you are with your class - but I’m not close to all of them. But yeah, Alex is my best friend.”

“That’s so cool! I love her!”

“She’s actually coming to visit me in a couple weeks.”

Lucy’s eyes widened as she just stared at Tobin for a second, and Christen couldn’t hold back a grin, knowing that Lucy’s mind was probably on the edge of combusting.

“ _Here_?” Lucy’s voice emerged high and squeaky.

Tobin nodded. “Yeah.”

“I have all her books! And her jersey! Do you think I could get her autograph?”

“On which one?”

Lucy opened her mouth and then shut it, her brow wrinkled pensively. “All of them?”

Christen laughed. “Maybe just the jersey and one book.”

“That’d be good!”

“Well, I’ll make sure that happens, okay?” Tobin said, and Lucy stared at her in awe, a newfound respect on her face.

A loud cheer from the screen drew everyone’s attention, and they watched for several minutes until Tobin turned to her once more.

“So, uh, when did you want to do our next chess night?” Tobin asked quietly, and Christen felt a small bolt of emotions at the words - surprise, a bit of nerves, excitement. 

“You still want to play?” Christen couldn’t keep the surprise out of her tone. Last time had been fun, but they had left off with only a vague mention of doing it again, no concrete plans. Christen hadn’t been sure if Tobin really wanted to continue or not, so she had left it up to her to decide. Since Tobin hadn’t texted, Christen assumed Tobin was past the chess phase, that maybe it was only something she was interested in while bored and mostly apartment-bound.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“You’re up and around now.”

“Sure, but that only helps so much. Not exactly a lot to do around here.”

“You could always become a bowling regular. I’m sure Lou would love the company,” Christen joked referring to the owner of the bowling alley, a man who mysteriously looked the exact same age as he had when she’d been a teenager who spent way too many hours at the lanes.

“Nah, I’d rather play chess. Way more exciting.” Tobin said, deadpan. “Plus, I have my own personal chess Yoda, so I wouldn’t want to lose that.”

“Well, your chess Yoda would love to play more. When did you have in mind?’

“Can’t do tomorrow. Jeff is driving in, and we’re having a whole family thing.”

“Weekends aren’t good for me anyway. What about Wednesday?”

“Yeah, that’d be good.”

“Okay, let me write it down.” Christen dug through her purse, then pulled out her planner with its bright pink cover.

Tobin grinned at her mockingly. “Of course you have a literal planner.”

“Yeah, I would die without it. My entire life is in here,” Christen said, tapping the cover before flipping it open.

“You know you can just, like, put stuff in your phone, right?” Tobin asked.

“Right, because you’re so tech savvy. Where’s your phone again?” Christen asked with a raised eye brow, and Tobin laughed.

“Touché.”

At halftime, Christen pulled the reluctant girls away, knowing they needed to get home in time for Perry’s return and Lucy’s bedtime.

There were only eight minutes left in the game by the time Christen turned it on in her living room, having just put Lucy to bed after reading her a quick story. She was just in time to see the Spirit taking a penalty kick, and Christen groaned, knowing the likelihood of a save was low. Her jaw dropped when AD read the situation correctly and dove to her right side for the ball, catching it with a skill so great it appeared to be ease.

Christen was reaching for her phone almost without conscious thought.

**Christen (8:33 PM): You should tell AD that PK save was EPIC.**

Apparently, Tobin had found her phone at some point after they left, because she began typing a reply immediately.

**Tobin (8:34 PM): already did :)**

They exchanged a few more texts about the game, ending with Christen sending a quick **Congratulations!** when the game ended with a 3-1 Thorns victory.

Then, somehow, they just…didn’t stop.

They texted about Tobin’s teammates and about Lucy’s first year of soccer last year and about the time Christen had won state for the Hornets her junior year with a PK.

They talked until Christen had to drop her phone and rub her eyes, sore from keeping the brightness up too high for the darkened room, and she looked at the clock to find it was after 10 PM. 

They had been texting for over an hour.

Maybe it was a natural forward progression, or maybe it was simply easier for them to talk from behind a screen, without the pressure of actually being together, seeing and being seen.

Christen wasn’t sure. But she knew she hadn’t texted anyone for this long in a long time.

Probably since Vero.

Christen chewed the inside of her lip, not wanting the conversation to end, but knowing she should, or she would regret it in the morning.

**Christen (10:08 PM): Just realized it’s past my bedtime. Should probably turn in for the night.**

**Tobin (10:09 PM): same here**

**Christen (10:09 PM): When did we get so old?**

**Tobin (10:09 PM): lol**  
**Tobin (10:09 PM): tell me about it**

**Christen (10:10 PM): Good night, Tobin.**

**Tobin (10:10 PM): good night, chris. go catch those good zzzs**

**Christen (10:11 PM): You, too. :)**

Christen yawned as she sent off her final response, then locked her screen, climbing the stairs to begin getting ready for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Made it just in time! As always, thank you for your wonderful comments. ♥ Please leave your thoughts in the comments below!


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